


Stranger of the Heart

by Ibrahil



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt!Jackson, Implied Mpreg (due to Omegas), Knotting, M/M, Self-Lubrication, bottom!Jackson, semi-au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 20:05:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ibrahil/pseuds/Ibrahil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles Stilinski had always believed he is a Beta, or an Omega (in the worst scenario ever), then one day, after been pushed into a locker by Jackson Whittemore, he not only pops a knot the following night, but also triggers Jackson’s heat, weird shit, considering Jackson had always assumed he is an Alpha, and a very tough one apparently.</p><p>Jackson will not be willing to submit to anyone, and things will be seriously horrible once everyone gets to know his true nature. After he accepts Stiles isn't going anywhere, life will get tough, living in a house that once was inhabited by another Omega - Stiles' mom - with not only Stiles but Sheriff Stilinski.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stranger of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt at teenwolfkink.
> 
> This is an AU, only because almost everyone is a werewolf, but is set in the same High School Universe, with the same characters, only that Peter is human and he isn't a Hale, also, he is with Lydia. Also, pack dynamics, A/B/O, with Omegas capable of getting pregnant regardless of gender, and no, this is not an Mpreg fic.
> 
> My thanks go to Gem, blue_eyed_1987, for the exhaustive work she did with my fic, she was amazing, thankyou really for your hard work and dedication to my fic, (and for answering all of my grammar questions). To 4liho for hearing all my bullshit the babbling I did for this fic. And to sammycolt24, for choosing my fic when I was panicking about life decisions.

 

  
Despite of what people might think, Stiles is a normal teenager, with needs, and maybe with a higher intelligence than most of his buddies in school. But still, a normal teenager. And as a normal teenager, he has been fighting his way to the top.  
  
He first traced that goal when he saw Jackson Whittemore, asshole extraordinary, kissing the girl of his dreams, the beautiful Alpha, Lydia Martin, in the school hall.  
  
Of course, when he did, he did not manage to understand how she could be with another Alpha, except, that everyone was asking themselves the same thing. Plus, Stiles had always been the coward type, so when Jackson slammed his back against the locker that day, he was scared senseless.  
  
He was so scared, it didn’t pass through his mind what he was doing, he was more focused on Jackson’s hand on his shirt and his lips moving, forming words, more like insults, spitting on his cheeks.  
  
He didn’t really notice what he was doing or that what he was doing might be bringing about some really catastrophic consequences.  


 

*/*/*/*

  
He is an Alpha.  
  
He is. No doubt about that. But then… why?  
  
Guess there is not so much to say about Jackson Whittemore that hasn’t already been said. He is one of the best Lacrosse players of the entire California state, and obviously the best in Beacon Hills. He’s not so smart, but his English grades are above average, and usually the ones that help him get pass the high school’s door. He was the boyfriend of Lydia, the most popular girl in Beacon Hills high school, for almost two years.  
  
And now, he is one of the most desired bachelors in the entire town. Plus, he is an Alpha. And everybody knows that. Getting a girl again will be easy as cake.  
  
It all begins one morning; or the morning after, his stepmom had been calling him since seven thirty, and its annoying, last night was a big night for the team, and yesterday was a horrible day and now he had to wake up early a Saturday, just because he has to do grocery shopping, there’s nothing worse than going to Wal-Mart and buy stuff with your mom.  
  
He’s finally seventeen now.  
  
But it’s his nightmare today, and no matter how much he complains, he can’t escape from it. Even though he wants to stay in all day, mourning about how late his stupid knot is now. He’s seventeen, for God’s sake.  
  
And he just broke up with Lydia for who know what reason, it was like one moment, he was shoving Stiles against a locker room, and the next Lydia was breaking their relationship, no explanation.  
  
Jackson’s room is a mirror of himself right now. Dirty clothes in a basket near the bathroom door, now spread on the floor, his lacrosse equipment in the floor of the closet that lays open, the books and pencils and his backpack all pile up in a corner, ready to be picked Monday morning, it’s a shame he hates study, Lydia always complained about that.  
  
There’s a collection of porn magazines under his bed, since he was like thirteen or something and now they are all scattered on the floor in a vain attempt to try to pop his knot out of his cock, to prove his manliness, but the trick isn’t working very well.  
  
The room is painted in light colors, and the curtains are so thin that if someone could climb up the ladder of the house and take a peek in his room, he could be seen clearly, lying in bed or masturbating at some dirty fantasy. It’s not like he that had many fantasies, anyway.  
  
He is a normal kid werewolf.  
  
His stepmother finally reaches the door, she opens it, and watches him with a scowl on her face, she doesn’t look happy, and he doesn’t either.  
  
“Are you coming or what?” At one time, he just would have climbed off the bed and started getting ready for going out. But now, he just rolls over in the bed and hides his face under the pillow. Its pathetic, he is pathetic, damn it. “Jackson? Are you okay? Feeling sick? Jack?” the approaching steps of his mother resound in the silent room, he flinches and curls up even smaller in the bed.  
  
A warm hand touches his forehead, he is not in fever, and he just doesn’t feel like waking up anymore, he can’t. He just can’t keep going with this. It is depressing. But is more depressing that his stepparents are humans.  
  
His stepmother gives up finally, leaving him alone. Staring at the ceiling now, with a hand over his stomach, the fear coming back slowly over his sore limbs. There are not tears running down his cheeks, but he feels like sobbing.  
  
Like he’s just dying.  
  
“What’s happening to me?” he whispers.

 

*/*/*/*

  
  
He is sitting in front of his computer, looking at pictures of Lydia on her facebook, scrolling down over the more than one dozens of photos of her road trip to Los Angeles, with her friends the last weekend. He feels like a pervert just for getting a little hard looking at her long and delicate legs.  
  
But even being in his excited state, he doesn’t dare to touch himself. Instead, he just closes the facebook’s tab, and changes to something more educational like his tumblr’s dashboard. It’s not like he hasn’t masturbated to Lydia’s name, but if he does while is dad is downstairs, that’ll be crossing many lines.  
  
After having Jackson throwing him against that locker, his back’s been hurting like a bitch, a purple bruise in the middle of his lower back, causing Scott to growl under his breath every time Scott’s mother has been tending to the wound.  
  
He still doesn’t know how it is that his friend is alive, not after the fight he and Jackson and the rest of the team had in the middle of the locker room. Not that he doesn’t trust his best friend, he loves Scott, loves the bastard like crazy, but sometimes his best friend Alpha’s spirit just scares the shit out of him.  
  
And that’s not a good thing.  
  
A soft knock on his door tells him his father is there to a) say good night and b)tell him to lock the doors and windows because he has a case to solve. Rising to his feet, he approaches the door, scratching his thigh, picturing Jackson in a pair of stocks to get his boner to go down.  
  
It does the trick.  
  
“Hey, dad.”  
  
“Hey, kid, I’m about to blaze, you know the drill.” He says, eyeing his son curiously. Probably smelling his arousal. “A pizza is coming, here, pay the guy with this”. He hand the money to his son and then with a pat in his shoulder, he’s going downstairs, a tired look in his face.  
  
“Careful” Stiles says going after him. “You gonna come home late?” He asks, scratching his arm now, staring at his dad’s back.  
  
“Not gonna be back here until early in the morning if I’m very lucky.” He says with a worried frown. “’s been a crazy week, son.”  
  
Feeling his father’s bad mood, Stiles hugs him, causing a startled laugh out of the old man. “Nah, ’m okay, swear”.  
  
“Just for the road, then,” Stiles’s says and his father is smiling again, more relaxed.  
  
“God, who’s the father here?” he asks and Stiles laughs.  
  
“I’m the mother.” Shrugging it off, he moves towards the front door his father opened when he got there, eyeing the outside of the house, there’s a party going on in the street, and several people gathered at the door of the Cornwell’s house. “C’mon, old man, go work”.  
  
After his father is gone, the house is all his, and smiling to himself, Stiles promises to be naked after the pizza is home.  
  
Growing up without his mother was probably the reason he always assumed he was an Omega or a Beta at most. Because of his serenity and his ability to no snap at his dad or at anyone, and also the easy feeling of being around Scott, or how every time he saw Jackson Whittemore he would almost shit his pants.  
  
So yes, a Beta or an Omega. Though, Omega’s heat was supposed to be after he’d turned sixteen, like Allison’s, yeah, just like Allison Argent or the boy from his chemistry class, who had Scott masturbating three times at day, and possibly every other Alpha, though, the weirdest thing about that was that he ended up aroused too that day until the kid’s parents sent him home.  
  
But that is an aisle case. Or so he though.  
  
After munching the entire pizza down, forgetting completely about his dad thanks to his teenager’s hunger, he returns to his room, the computer still on, but with Scott’s face on it.  
  
Laughing, he launches in the chair.  
  
“Man! How long you’d been waiting for me?” he asks, laughing quietly at Scott’s annoyed face.  
  
“Long enough,” Scott answers, and yeah, that is not a good mood.  
  
“What? Daddy Argent cock block you again?” the cocky grin in his face is so big; that Scott rolls his eyes at him.  
  
“Shut up, fucker.” But then he nods and Stiles blurts in joy, laughing so hard his face turns red in seconds. “Besides, her mother… uff, man, the devil, I swear, my mother is some kind of god or something”.  
  
“She keeps offering the cookies, right?” He still is laughing, so Scott barely identifies any of his words. “Man, you’re so screwed, also, poor Allison”.  
  
“Yeah, because she’s the one with a blue balls problems.”  
  
“Just squeeze it yourself,” he says, and just Scott’s expression is what he needs to burst out laughing again.  
  
“You’re a pain in the ass,” Scott snarls, low and menacing. “Well, not my ass anyway.”  
  
“You wish.”  
  
Scott goes to sleep close to ten thirty, and apart from not being sleepy at all, Stiles still needs to complete his important task of masturbating today, something he had read on some pages, that if after twenty years and long amount of time spend masturbating, his heat didn’t show up, then he was a Beta. Or that is the solution for males Betas.  
  
He doesn’t know why he just could not let the destiny to follow it’s course, no, he needs to know, like at age seven he needed to know where his mom was, or at age ten on how other males could have babies.  
  
He just needs to know.  
  
Glancing over his room, to the locked door, he sits comfortably in front of his white computer, sprawling his legs open, and sitting back in the chair. God, he needs to look at someone, so, feeling a sharp stab of guilt, he opens Lydia’s facebook again, and clicks on the pictures of her last year birthday party, a beach party for more specifics details.  
  
She is wearing a blue swim suit of two pieces and a blue matching flower on his long hair, she isn’t even wet, but the view of her slim hips and her pale chest makes his cock swell. Three pictures more and he gets to his favorite one. It is so far her most obscene picture, she is over a table, with her legs open and Jackson, stupid Jackson, between her legs, she is hugging him, and even though, the only thing visible of hers are her legs, and her hands on Jackson’s low back, it is perfect.  
  
It is easy for Stiles to get off on it, giving long strokes to his cock, faster and faster every time, until… what the fuck?  
  
Stopping, he stares in disbelief at his pants.  
  
“Oh shit!”  
  
Jumping from his chair, he runs in the bathroom’s direction, squealing all the way in. Cursing under his breath as soon as he gets to the bathroom, and installs himself in front of the wall mirror. His moth drops open and his heart racing in his ears from his run, stops.  
  
“Holy shit of werewolves…”  
  
He has just popped a knot.  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
His steps are usually the loudest ones in the school hall, everyone turns to see him, admire him, lust after him. He doesn’t care actually, but he loves it. The constant attention, the looks of everyone, males and females over him, the gritting of teeth that Lydia does constantly through his entire walk until the next class room.  
  
Its all over him, the constant feeling of being adored, it makes him feel alive.  
  
Today he’s specially proud of his popularity, the one that earn him a lot of gifts in his locker case, chocolates and new ties, for his birthday, his seventeen birthday.  
  
He almost could feel that every conversation this day is for him, about him. That only makes his Alpha scent go crazy, causing more disasters than usual in the Omegas and Betas of the school, and a funny look from others Alphas.  
  
He is turning a corner when he sees Stiles Stilisnki walking with Scott McCall, two of his worst enemies. Not nothing unusual there. They are murmuring really quietly, but Jackson has always been known for being a special wolf, with senses that others wolfs don’t have. So he hears them anyway.  
  
“…and it just popped!” Stiles is saying, voice loud, raw, causing a chill in Jackson that freeze him in the middle of the hall, his eyes fixed on Stiles. “… just happened, Scott, how can that shit be possible?”  
  
“…you sure? Maybe it’s a STD…” Scott answers, snorting and smiling, but then Stiles is glaring at him, and Scott seems to get serious. “Ok, you ask your dad? I just… I mean you…”  
  
“Yeah, I know, dude.” Stiles glances over Scott’s shoulder and fixes on Jackson’s deep gaze on them, his cheeks go deeply red, and he lowers his eyes before they could be seen like a challenge, but Jackson’s attention is already on them and their not so secretive conversation.  
  
“You lost somethin’, Jackson?” Scott asks, turning around and challenging the dirty blond at his back, one look at him and Scott Alpha’s scent is all over the hall.  
  
Jackson is about to answer but his voice is locked in his throat, he can’t even move; just turn his eyes to another spot safer… wait safer? What the fuck is wrong with him?  
  
Scott rolls his eyes, and grabs Stiles by his shirt, and then he’s moving, they’re moving, walking away from Jackson’s frozen body in the hall close to the patio.  
  
He stays there until Danny finally approaches him, grabbing his shoulder and moving his body, trying to wake him up from whatever has hit him, he jerks awake when they’re in the boy’s bathroom, cold water dripping from Jackson’s face, his long and thick eyelashes flicking up and down.  
  
“Where am I?” he asks, feeling that whatever got stuck in his throat finally disappeared, leaving his voice raw and scare.  
  
“You tell me, man, you froze in the middle of the hallway, Jackson.”  
  
“Oh…” he doesn’t know what to say, he just stays there grabbing the bathroom wall firmly. “I don’t know what happened.”  
  
“Want me to take you home?” Danny asks, eyeing him with a weird look. “Oh, and happy birthday, man”  
  
Jackson snorts.  
  
“Whatever.”  
  
“You sure?”  
  
“Yeah, let’s go class.”  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
Stiles can tell Scott is mad at him, really mad, like mad I will rip your head off. At first he though it was because of his call in the middle of the night, when he was spent in his bed after having had the longest orgasm of his life. But then it is only because of Allison, and how she is currently ignoring him this morning, as if it was his fault that her parents ruined their little party yesterday.  
  
“Man, are you listening to me?” he asked, waving a hand in front of Scott’s face. “Definitely, Scott, you lost it.”  
  
“What? Leave me alone.”  
  
“C’mon man, at least listen to what I have to tell you, okay?” Nodding, Scott resigned and mad, agreed to listen to whatever shit he has to say. And what important shit it was. “Okay, so I was looking at Lydia’s photos again-” he totally ignores Scott rolling his eyes. “When I started you know, to jack off, and then... man, and then… and it just popped!” Stiles is saying really low, almost in sheer panic, causing Scott attention to snap. “My knot, man, just like that, just happened, Scott, how can that shit be possible?”  
  
Snorting, Scott answers in the middle of a laugh.  
  
“What? Shit, are you sure? Maybe is a STD, you look like the type.” Stiles glares at him, and Scott seems to get serious because if it is true, then Stiles can beat the shit out of him. “Ok, ya ask your dad? I just… I mean you, that’s weird, man.”  
  
“Yeah, I know, dude.” Then Stiles feels it, glancing over Scott’s shoulder and fixing his eyes on Jackson Whittemore, he blushed hard, feeling his face going hot, ashamed and scared that Jackson might had heard what he was saying, and he low his eyes before they could be see like a type of challenge.  
  
“You lost somethin’, Jackson?” Scott snaps, turning around and challenging the dirty blond at his back, one look at him and Scott Alpha’s scent is all over the hall. Making even Stiles dizzy with the powerful scent.  
  
It seems like Jackson is about to answer, but he doesn’t, instead, he just stays there, in the middle of the hall, surprising Stiles who just can star at him.  
  
Scott rolls his eyes in the end, and grabs him by his shirt, and then he’s moving, they’re moving, walking away from Jackson’s frozen body in the hall close to the patio towards the cafeteria.  
  
“That bastard gets on my nerves, all the damn time,” Scott is mumbling low, in a menacing growl, he is indeed an Alpha, it can be see from a real outside point of view, and Stiles is proud of him, as his friend.  
  
“Ok, so, you want me to show you?” He asks, once they are sitting in one of the most retired tables in the cafeteria. “My knot I mean.”  
  
“What? You think I’m a knot slut, course not, man.” scrunching his face in an annoyed expression, Scott eats a potato on his plate. “I believe ya, I’m just having a hard time adjusting.”  
  
“What’re you talking about? I just told you like a minute ago! Jeez, your mind’s still on Allison, right?”  
  
“Sort of.”  
  
“Man, you need a break,” he finally says after a long pause, staring at Scott’s pensive expression. “And you need to talk to her.”  
  
“I’m not talking to her,” he snaps, and that’s the end of the discussion.  
  
For the moment, anyway.  
  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
The school is empty by the end of the afternoon, a soft light illuminating the library where Stiles is sitting by a corner, Freud and a lot of another psychos in front of him, books of years of investigation, talking about sentient Alphas, which just don’t have the gene in them.  
  
Stupid gene, or whatever.  
  
But, the good thing is, he is not the only one. There have been others, men and women, struggling against their own nature, but the thing is, that he feels…normal. Despite the confusion he had in his head the night before, he is at good peace with his own self.  
  
It must be odd, he knows, but he only popped a knot, is not like he suddenly is feeling horny, with a terrible urge to bury himself in some tight virgin Omega hole, well, maybe he wasn’t until he started to think about that, anyway. He is at peace with himself. And nothing could get between him and his new self discovered addition.  
  
Scott had told him to milk himself at least once or twice a week, and then he wouldn’t have the need to do it anymore. Scott is the expert, but just in case, he looks for some more college and prescript advice from the books and the school’s nurse. Who stared at him for long and uncomfortable seconds before giving him instructions, possibly thinking he was the most pathetic Alpha of all the times.  
  
He is going to get over this, and keep living his life. No big changes, no anything.  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
Next time Jackson meets with McCall is in the field.  
  
He makes sure to make him trip and fall on the ground, but McCall’s revenge comes pretty quickly and disturbing for him.  
  
He’s running towards the goal, smiling, feeling that familiar rush, when Scott gets in front of his line vision, and the collision is inevitable. Unavoidable. Both bodies collide and fall on the ground, Scott over Jackson who is struggling to get on his feet, trying to push aside McCall’s body, and then, Scott is growling, snapping at him to stay quiet.  
  
He freezes, and realization sinks not only on him, but in the other player as well, when a low moan comes out of his throat. He feels the heat coming up his cheeks when he notices something hard poking him in the middle of his thigh, knowing what he does to McCall with that sound.  
  
Quickly and clumsy, Scott stands up, throwing his helmet on to ground and practically runs to school, meanwhile he just stays there on the ground.  
  
Five seconds pass, and then Danny is carrying him on his shoulder, direction unknown.  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
  
“That he’s a what?”  
  
Stiles voice came out really thin, a gasped sound, like if he is choking on his own tongue. Scott is about to snap at him, but stopped dead and breathed another gasp of air. He is apparently in so much shock that his hands are gripping really tight the wood of his desk.  
  
They are in his room, well, Scott is in his room, invading his space as usual. After escaping from school and lacrosse practice, he had run to the library and from there to his home, where he found Scott sitting in his porch staring at the sky, lost in whatever was disturbing him.  
  
“He’s a fucking Omega! A fucking Omega, Stiles!” he screams again, punching the air and then running for his bed, launching himself over the covers. “Oh my god and the fucking bastard… Jesus, he’s… he’s…”  
  
“He’s a bastard?” Stiles asks carefully.  
  
“He’s so fuckable! Fuckable, Stiles!”  
  
“Oh… ok.”  
  
“Argh…” Punching the covers, Scott laid still once more, eyes on the ceiling. “He was… and I was… then he fell, and… I snapped at him… and he moaned so prettily… Jesus Christ, Stiles!” Scott really was losing his shit in the bed, his hands wrapped around his eyes, sounding like he is about to burst in tears at any moment. “Oh my god, he gave me a fucking boner…”  
  
“Are we still talking about Jackson?”  
  
“For god’s sake, don’t say his fucking name!” Jesus, he was indeed sensitive.  
  
“Ok, are you sure? Like you know… you smelled it right?”  
  
Scott’s face is thoughtful, boarding in brooding, like he is transporting himself to that moment when he discovered such an ugly truth about the captain of the lacrosse team.  
  
Stiles can see how hard is for his friend to be feeling like this, so mad at himself for being aroused for someone who had always been his enemy, since pretty much kindergarten, when Jackson use to throw dirt at Stiles or destroy his sand castles in the park at the age of eight. It’s the reason why Stiles started to read more books and play less outside, things that got Scott really mad.  
  
It is indeed hard, and understanding grows bigger in his chest.  
  
“I did smell it, you know? He was… rich and ripe, god, he’s probably fingering himself now…” closing his eyes, Scott let out a soft moan.  
  
“Woah, man, stop, don’t wanna hear anything more about Jackson.” Stiles blushes, and quickly erases the picture that his friend has just put in his brain, but it is too late, he is already hard in his pants.  
  
“Its true, Stiles… his heat is just about to start… the damn first heat…uff” now things are getting pretty weird, because Scott is smiling. “First heat’s the best. Jesus, if he’s knotted in his first, then he will be…”  
  
“What?”  
  
A long pause and then…  
  
“Stiles? Scott?” Stiles’s Dad voice comes pretty closer to the door, causing both boys to stir themselves pretty quickly. “Are you boys there?”  
  
“Yeah, dad. We’re studying,” He answers, trembling when he hears his father steps stop by the door.  
  
“’Kay, talk to you later, gonna crash.”  
  
“Night, dad.”  
  
The steps get farther pretty quickly and both boys sigh relieved.  
  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
After both of his stepparents left the house, Jackson installed himself on the floor, chips in a bowl by his side, and a beer on the other, Rocky II on his new HD TV, his body only covered by a tight pair of socks and a pair of boxers that clung to his butt like a second skin. His stepmother told him to not hang out of the house too much, since the visit to his doctor was traumatic and ended with him clinging to his knees all the way back home.  
  
The thing had gone like this:  
  
His parents, alerted by his chemistry teacher of his new state as an Omega, took him to the hospital that same day, nervous and anxious, because, although they had done some research before adopting him, they didn’t know much about the species, for starters, they had thought that Alpha and Beta were the most common kind, so they probably won’t have to worry about an Omega son, and then it was their job, one of them was a dentist, and the other the owner of a flower shop. At first, things had gone pretty easy, his stepmother talking, and he and his stepfather listening to the doctor, then asking him some embarrassing questions, and then his mother actually trying to command him to do something. Treating him like he was three years old again.  
  
It sucked pretty badly.  
  
She actually had given him rules to follow, a diet, some pamphlets to read, and a no-beer statement that had him protesting his right as a stud, which wasn’t too wise to do, by the look in his mother’s clears eyes. “Suck it up, Jackson,” her eyes had said, while her mouth spat a “‘no Jackson’ usually means _no_.”  
  
Yeah, that bad, now, instead of obeying his mother, he is doing the exact opposite thing, drinking from his can every three minutes, bare stomach on the soft carpet.  
  
If someone asked him how it happened, he probably would have stuttered, because he was just watching a movie he had seen a thousands times and more, and then there it was, a moist sensation coming out from his asshole, along with a burning sensation from his belly.  
  
He moans, pressing his legs together and letting his head drop to the floor, eyes firmly close, and fists clench hard.  
  
“Oh for god’s sake,” he mumbles in a pained voice.  
  
Panting like he has just run in a marathon, Jackson turns around on the floor, unclenching his fists and covering his face.  
  
But three minutes later, the sudden heat in his guts is not gone, and he is starting to panic. So he does something he never thought he would do.  
  
“Lydia?” his voice sounds calmer this time, he is on the phone, barely holding it on his hand. “Can you call Allison and ask her what the hell it means if I’m… if I’m…”  
  
“If you are what!?” She screams, there’s a party going on in her side of the line.  
  
“I’m… I’m leaking something…”  
  
“From your ass?” her tone is obvious, and he can see her rolling her eyes. “Jackson, did you read any of the pamphlets your mom gave you?”  
  
“Err… no?”  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean? Anyway! You leak when you’re horny, now jack off or fuck off, and don’t call me again while you’re leaking your heat.” And that being said she hangs up.  
  
Ignoring the grossness factor of the situation, and staring at the ceiling, Jackson has no other choice but to follow Lydia’s advice, and, really, how hard can that be?  
  
Hard, apparently.  
  
Because for starters, he never has put anything close to his asshole, he has been the type of man that thinks that his hole is one-function-only. And the thought of having something deep in his ass is not good or appealing, except when it is.  
  
His fingers trace a path around his tense hole, his eyes shut, and his free hand clutching the soft carpet, he moans when the tip of his fingers breach the tight skin, and is inside him, for god’s sake.  
  
It’s awkward. And so different from touching Lydia’s body. Because the skin is tender inside, and his own body clutches his finger, gripping it harder when he digs deeper. He doesn’t do any fucking movement inside, just keeps going forward, and his body protests. Disagreeing with his clumsy fumbling.  
  
He groans, and decides that he is doing this, once his body stops trembling like a leaf. But his body doesn’t agree, and keeps trembling, its hard to focus on getting his fingers wet with saliva, without thinking on how filthy and stupid this is, especially when his fingers taste odd.  
  
Once he decides its enough, he touches between his legs, and now he really feels dumb, because, damn, he is completely wet and his fingers digs deeply inside until the last knuckle, he moans weakly, closing his eyes and feeling helpless with the need to just keep pushing.  
  
He feels empty and disgusting with the pleasure that builds in his stomach. But the longing is what really gets to him when he hits his prostate, his back arched in pleasure, and the thought of a manly figure over him, on him, in him. That is what gets him to climax.  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
  
Jackson doesn’t want return to class, he hasn’t even thought about what he’s suppose to say to any of his school mates, to Danny who has been calling him since Friday night, or Scott, who also called him, that one was the weirdest thing of that day, even more than having discovered that he is actually an Omega.  
  
But as always, school sucks.  
  
Danny is sitting on a bench, arms folded over his chest, serene expression on his face, but there’s a tingling thing between them when he reaches closer, observing how his best friend just starts glaring at him as soon as he doesn’t speak immediately.  
  
“So?” Danny said, his expression changing to one at little more discomforting.  
  
“So what?” he asked, as he didn’t know what they were talking about.  
  
“Jackson.” He glared harder, frowning and rising to his feet. “The plan, dude”  
  
The plan? Oh right, their weekend plans, how he forgot? God, he is so dead and he couldn’t care less.  
  
“Sorry, man, couldn’t make it with my mom whining about…”  
  
“Your mom? Seriously? What are you? Twelve?” Danny looks almost disappointed before he began walking towards the school’s entrance. “Can’t believe you didn’t show up, the guys were just total jerks, you know? They aren’t funny when you are not around, man”.  
  
‘Funny’ is a middle term for ‘Not douche bags dudes’; everybody loves Danny, everybody knows Danny, the girls at the library who always give them those silly smiles, and the guys at the parking lot, who always wave their hands at Danny when he passes by. But the team guys, they are friendly yeah, but not so much when they are under the bad influence of alcohol.  
  
And yeah, this weekend was intended to be a major alcohol party. It sucks he was dying in bed with his now not so funny revelation.  
  
“Sorry, Dan. I promise I’ll make it up to you”  
  
“Nah, let it go,” Danny smiles and pat his back. “Was just kidding you, man, you are way too tense,” he says gripping tight his shoulder. “What’s up, babe?”  
  
Jackson knows his best friend is only avoiding what Jackson’s is escaping for about a week. His knowledge of what he is, and what he is not. The Omega thing.  
  
“Don’t call me babe in public,” He complains only because of his manly pride, the one that he doesn’t want to throw away only because he is a filthy Omega, but he actually is used to listening Danny call him pet names of any kind, the worst have been ‘Bunny’ in the middle school. “I’m just… I’m tired, all the damn time, and my life is changing so fast… so…”  
  
“You’re a teenager, Jackson, ‘course you feel your life’s changin’, its normal.” Danny’s voice is like a sweet feeling crawling up his spine, soothing the pain on the back of his neck, he’s scared and he wants more of that soothing feeling in him, so he gets closer to his team mate, clutching his hand on Danny’s waist.  
  
Danny eyes him curiously, frowning before returning his look to the front. It’s obvious that Jackson feels protected with him, he is a Beta after all. And it’s of common knowledge that Omegas feel more protected with Betas more than with Alphas. Though, what every Omega needs in their lives is an Alpha. Some girls, the ones that are not drooling over Jackson’s presence, are darting glances at them, likely wondering why they are so close now.  
  
“’m tired,” Jackson whispered, before leaning on to Danny’s shoulder, closing his eyes and stopping his walk to wherever they were going. “Wanna go home, Danny.”  
  
“Jackson?” The nearness of Jackson is starting to get uncomfortable; he is way too close to Danny’s body. Some Alphas are already putting their eyes on them. “Hey, man… let me take you home.”  
  
“Don’t wanna go home.” Jackson finally stumbles back, sighing at the sight of the school and the people looking at them. “I’ll just go to the bathroom,” he says, his smile doesn’t reach his eyes, but Danny still is a little too in shock to say anything.  
  
He has been taking stumbling steps towards the bathroom, when he sees it, Scott, at the end of the hallway, chatting with that little bald freak. He is laughing at something, so cheerfully that Jackson swears he is going to throw up right there.  
  
But then, Scott’s eyes are on him, and his worried gaze just makes the sick feeling a little more unbearable.  
  
“Jackson!” he screams, starting to walk toward him, decisive steps, and before he is able to do something, Danny is there again, right in front of him, facing Scott with a frown on his face, and his lips a thin line.  
  
“Leave it, McCall,” he says, and Jackson finally finds the strength to move, to run towards his class room. Scott’s voice ringing in his ears like gun shots.  
  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
It starts with small gestures until its Stiles and his entire self; and somehow, in the back of his mind he thinks its filthy and over-teenager behavior, and still, he can’t get to a closure of this stage of his life, the stage when he masturbates even to a photo of Jackson Whittemore, new and most desired Omega of all the times.  
  
Its not like it is a surprise, Jackson is beautiful in a very mainly way, though his face is something that some people would consider it androgynous, a step between Apollo’s and Narcissus’s beauty. So when a basketball team player spreads the rumor of Jackson new state, every person in the entire school scents, leaving it filled with pure desire and hunger.  
  
Even some teachers have to leave school for the day, and the Principal ended up sending every student home.  
  
But what have him the most worried was how this was affecting him.  
  
In the past two days, his cranky mood is becoming just stronger and stronger, so not him, like Scott have told him just the morning before, really annoyed by Stiles self discovered Alpha essence. Because he is no longer intimidate by Scott snapping at him.  
  
Though, every time he saw a bully, he would crawl in some corner of the school and hide. Maybe Scott isn’t a problem, but other Alphas are. It isn’t like he out of nowhere is developing his Alpha instinct, and Scott even has mocked him by telling him something about his heat or whatever the chucklehead had said.  
  
His food habits are the same, eating like a freaking pig, munching like a human on everything in his reach. His bad habits are the same, and maybe he is a bit obsessive about his newly developed knot, and his manners are still clumsy, also, his grades keep being the ones of a nerd Beta.  
  
“Its good you’re a different kind of Alpha,” Allison tells him in the morning, while sitting by Scott’s side. “Not every Alpha is gentle and caring, I mean, Scott is not like every Alpha, he’s sweet.”  
  
“Ali…”  
  
And maybe Stiles doesn’t want to know anything about Scott’s Alpha behavior.  
  
But then, maybe he does. Allison does not say anything he doesn’t already know, Scott is not a predictable person, but he had been with Stiles since kindergarten.  
  
“And he is like that, but you probably knew that, right? I just want you to know that every Alpha is different.” She ends the sentence by rising to her feet. “I have class now, do you mind telling Scott to call me at Lydia’s? I’m going there after class,” she smiles and makes Stiles wonders how someone with such a bad mood like Scott can have someone like Allison.  
  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
Back in the school hall, Jackson can feel sweat begin to form over his eyelids, the suppressants are not working well, and watching his team mates playing in the field not only makes him uneasy, but horny, or half horny, the entire school can smell it, and he curses the day he let his stepparents send him to a werewolf’s public school; if that hadn’t been the case, then he just wouldn’t have to spend his morning of practice curled in a corner.  
  
Danny has come a few times, bringing him food and water, and some already mated Alphas, like his chemistry teacher, sat by his side in deep silence, staring at the rest of the students, while he munched on his food. What worried him the most was that every time an Alpha sat by his side, the pain of the heat receded being replaced by a warm feeling in his belly.  
  
By the third period, Jackson is so full of food that Lydia has to pick him up and escort him to the next class.  
  
Lydia is pretty much the only one good thing his heat brought along. She has been the most supportive he could wish a friend to be, buying his suppressants, carrying him around, standing to all of his break downs, like the one he had yesterday.  
  
Having eating a full squid after lunch, he is so full he almost feels pregnant, and only the thought of that makes him throw up in the mall's bathroom, Lydia is by his side when that happens, staring at him in disbelief.  
  
“Jackson, do that again and I will disown you," she mumbles, cleaning his mouth with a napkin and handling him her pocket mints.  
  
“Sorry,” he whispered, washing his face and throwing some mints in his mouth, the refreshing feeling soothing the heat’s pain.  
  
"Okay, so, your suppressants can be bought at the store in the first floor,” She said staring at her smart phone. “When was the last time you took your suppressant?"  
  
“Yesterday morning.”  
  
"Okay, according to Allison the suppressants must be taken in every day, so lets go buy them, and then I’ll drive you to the field, today's game will be fun," Lydia was talking while walking down the hall, holding his hand strongly.  
  
“Lydia,” he called her softly, feeling a bit like himself, mad at this thing eating him alive.  
  
“Yeah?” she asked without rising his eyes form her phone.  
  
“Did you know?”  
  
“About?”  
  
“Me being an Omega.” The word Omega being said in a broken voice, with a strong tug at his throat.  
  
“Well.” She stops, turning around. “Not an Omega, but certainly a Beta, what other reason would you have to go out with an Alpha?” laughing softly at his expression, Lydia pats him in the back. “You never thought about that?”  
  
“It wasn’t my priority, besides I thought that two Alphas could fall in love too.” This time Lydia sighs probably thinking he is stupid, well, everyone knows how smart Lydia is.  
  
“’Course not, Jackson," she says like she’s just saying ‘duh’. “It’s a gene thing, babe; you can’t fall in love with another Alpha; it’s not right.”  
  
“What would happen then?" he asks curious. It is just something he never had thought about.  
  
“They both will end with broken hearts and faces, Alphas just seems to be pretty harsh, like me," she shrugs, grabbing Jackson firmly when an old lady tries to grab him before they both climb on the automatic stairs. Everyone wants a piece of Jackson, apparently.  
  
“Oh" he say smiling softly and a little cocky. "Now I see why you are just like that," she smiles too after that.  
  
There is a comfortable silence between them, as they get closer to the pharmacy, Jackson is shaking a little, but feeling positive by the hand of an Alpha, a shitty feeling for someone like him, so in control of everything.  
  
“Oh by the way, did you know that Scott is worried about you, right?" her eyes are on him, watching every trace of emotion.  
  
“Do I have to care?”  
  
“No, but then yes, never underestimate a worried Alpha, Jackson, if he is as worried as Allison describes him, then maybe you should talk to him." God, he is like a little kid now, so new to everything.  
  
“Why?”  
  
She watches him like she is about to slap him right in the middle of the mall, but she seems to restrain herself for a brief period.  
  
“Remember when Danny got hurt in that game? You just didn’t stop cursing the other team’s player, or checking on Danny every second, you even went to his house and stayed for a few nights, remember? Scott and Stiles are worried about you; also, did you know Stiles is an Alpha? He’s cute, maybe you should talk to him, he’s going through the same thing as you.” She is harsh and sweet at the same time, and Jackson wonders if it is an Alpha thing.  
  
“Really? He’s feeling like his insides are burning and his masculinity is in the sewers? Not thanks, I don’t want to hang out with that loser." It surprises him, how easy the snarky answer is now more than lingering on his tongue.  
  
“Jackson…”  
  
“Jackson!” And there it is, the stupid… wait, is that Stiles?  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
“Hey,” Stiles says, waiving his hand in the air, Lydia looks at him like he is an alien, but Jackson’s look is unique. Like he is in some sort of shock, mouth slightly open, green eyes wide with surprise. “Ummm, you dropped this in the bathroom…” he whispers, itchy already for leaving the place.  
  
He handles to the Omega his ID card, the one that he found while talking to Scott in the bathroom about unconditional friendship and a new Wii game.  
  
Jackson stares at him, frowning hard.  
  
“Thanks, Stiles,” Lydia says looking at Jackson, waiting for him to repeat her words.  
  
“What?” Stiles and Jackson asks at the same time, making her roll her eyes.  
  
“Jackson,” she says now with a warning in his voice. “Say ‘thanks’,” it works like a charm, Jackson mumbles a thanks while feeling a chill crawl his spine.  
  
“Oh, well… you welcome.”  
  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
  
Stiles’ dad having a hard case again is a relief, it makes Stiles forget about the disastrous encounter with Jackson in the shopping mall, he still is trying to figure out that one; but in the meantime, he is going to help his dad in this new and shiny case.  
  
Its a theme that the TV doesn’t show about the town, the human massacre that some pack perpetuates still in the modern times, more common in small towns than in the bigger cities.  
  
This pack had killed at least a dozen of people by now, and if someone asks, the reason of the lack of coverage by the media, is the treaty of peace between races, the one that talks about respect between the races and blablabla, but everyone knows how humans still hunts werewolves and vice versa too.  
  
Stiles had always been interested in this type of case.  
  
Scott is barely paying him attention by now, too focused on Allison's voice on Skype; they had been talking since morning, cell phones connected on only one call; through Bluetooth in their ears, Allison on Scott’s side, his dad in his own.  
  
Some days its like they need to feel that string that pull them together, and today, when Stiles is feeling stressed and Scott is annoyed by Allison's reluctance to just being official already, they need each other.  
  
Thing with Scott is, that he and Allison are together, they mated a year ago, fitting perfectly with each other, but the Argents didn’t take to well the news; in fact they completely despise Scott, but they didn’t have much choice then, Allison is an Omega, which mean they mated for life and only one time.  
  
But in spite of the first mating, they were still in an awkward situation, every time Scott tried for a sexual advance.  
  
“I don’t have any idea of what are you exactly complaining about, man?” Stiles whines, taking advantage of his break for a soda, to talk freely to his friend. “You have sex with her, man, instead, here I am, like any other mortal, virgin until noticed, does that look fair to you?”  
  
Scott laughs, the bastard, but at least he sounds better. “Just, hold on, until her parent’s vacation, can’t be that long, eh?”  
  
“Next week,” Scott replies, coughing a little, hiding the words from Allison, she is probably doing homework in front of him, glancing at him in her monitor.  
  
“See, jerk? You're way better off than me.”  
  
“Stiles?”  
  
“My dad needs me, keep talking.” They don’t hang out, they keep talking.  
  
Later, when Sheriff Stilinski is asleep on the couch, is when Stiles decides to go and do his homework, nothing that takes him lest than an hour of research, printing the best of the opinions about story.  
  
Homework is something he enjoys to do, the research being the fun part, his books always ends up ruined, filled with scratches of his pen, and sometimes he laughs at himself when he compares it with Severus Snape and his potion book.  
  
He checks his Facebook page before deciding calling it a night, and stares perplexedly at the page. Jackson’s new status is confusing. He says ‘xangin, stupi isn’t? Dont vn know wt am feelin’ and Stiles doesn’t know if he should be horrified at the bad grammar or at the fact that the status was update a few minutes after their encounter.  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
Lydia knows Jackson pretty well, she was with him for a long time, but since the first time she saw him in the high school hall, she knew, yeah, she had known it all the time. It didn’t matter how many times Jackson tried to play gentleman, he was clear as water, and he was not an alpha.  
  
Every adult around them seemed to notice it, and for the first week, he received a bunch of odd looks from every other teenager. Because for everyone that didn’t know Jackson, he was a stirred Alpha, and some sort of high school popular god, they couldn’t understand why he was with another Alpha, like Lydia Martin, like her.  
  
“Are we going back to the beginning?” Lydia asks, looking at Jackson, who is sitting with his legs crossed, and a Soda between his fingers, he looks angry, she doesn’t care. “These, lessons are for you to get over your depressed state, I’m doing it for help?”  
  
“She is right, Jack,” Danny says, smiling under his hand.  
  
“Don’t call me Jack, asshole,” he growls, terrible upset.  
  
“You have two options, you die of depression or you do the hardest shit to get over this, you are an Omega, Jackson!” Jackson shook his head, closing his eyes and refusing to look at his lifesavers.  
  
“No.”  
  
Lydia sighs, covering her face with her hands. He is indeed more stubborn than Allison, she was stubborn even when she didn’t know about his Omega state.  
  
“You’re stubborn as hell, Jackson, why you don’t wanna hear Lydia? She knows about this,” Danny decides to take over, he is sitting in Lydia’s bed, watching the TV. “She can help you, pumpkin.”  
  
“Ok, enough with the nicknames.” Its Lydia who says it, making Danny muffle a laugh in the pillow he is holding. “Jackson, I’m gonna try and do my best with you, but I don’t do miracles.”  
  
“And I don’t want to be an Omega.”  
  
“Yeah, you made that clear the million times you said it. Are we on the subject now?” She is loosing her shit pretty fast, a second more of Jackson’s bullshit and she will be kicking him out of her house.  
  
“Fine.”  
  
She curses the day when she thought therapy would be a good idea.  
  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
  
It is a Monday when Jackson decides to go to the bathroom to wash his face, trying to make the tiredness go away with some fresh water. He enters the room, watching under the bathroom’s stalls and noticing with relief that no one is there to bother him.  
  
Maybe that’s why after splashing some water on his face, he startles, throwing a punch when the first hand slaps his ass, hard, the punch lands on the jaw of Ferguson, captain of the not-so-popular basketball team, breaking his jaw bone, and with a colder mind and a better situation, Jackson probably will evaluate how being an Omega still didn’t throw all of his herculean strength down the toilet.  
  
At least he has something to be proud of, in spite of everything bad that had happened since his heat began.  
  
The next one to try to touch him is one of the new kids on the lacrosse team this year, lean and tall, shaggy brown hair, cocky smile, this one falls to the ground with a loud thud and a kick in his balls.  
  
By the time Richard Mardock stumbles a few steps back with a hook in his throat, the rest of his soon-to-be-rapists know they have to handle Jackson with his full arms and doing team work, though, Jackson’s blood is boiling with growing rage, like he is about to burst in flames; his face hot and red, green eyes full of so much fury in them than anyone but a bunch of Alphas teenager would be afraid.  
  
Instinct is telling them to back out, but lust is telling them otherwise, the desire, the sick need to possess the new and ripe Omega; too strong to let it go; and even Jackson is feeling those vibes, the ones telling him in a muffled voice the things these boys want to do to him.  
  
“You better submit before things get worse for you, little bitch," one of the biggest guys tells him in a rough tone that send shivers up his spine.  
  
"Worse? I didn’t know you were such an idiot, you realized there’s three of you on the floor? Two already knocked out?," he asks in his cocky and normal tone of voice, not flinching when bully #1 raises his fist and lets it land on the counter behind him, rage in his Alpha eyes for the disobedience Jackson shows, and Jackson could not care less about his Alpha pride being hurt.  
  
"Fuck off," he spits, walking finally until he is right in front of Jackson, who feels himself going dizzy from the strong Alpha scent, this means he can not do anything but let himself being touched by one of these bastards.  
  
 _I didn’t realize being an Omega could suck this much_ , he tells himself feeling a hand grip his wrist before blood spills all over his pale face, he gasps in shock, opening his mouth in pure astonishment, before letting himself fall to the floor tiles.  
  
The bathroom is fully illuminated with artificial white light, causing his face to look even paler, as his green eyes shine with tears prickling at the corners, he feels his breath coming desperately, the panic in his gut, the irrational fear making his sore limbs to tremble, and he is close passing out, close to the final break down.  
  
"Jackson? Jackson!?" a voice screams, stabbing the cold atmosphere around him, a soft hand on his cold face. “Jackson, answer me, please man.”  
  
Danny? No, it doesn’t smell like Danny, it smell sweet, gentle, like him, another Omega maybe? He didn’t know, but with the papery and minty scent he let himself fall to sleep.  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
Stiles is hovering outside the door leading to Jackson’s private hospital room, avoiding Scott's gaze, Lydia stare and Jackson’s stepparents sobs, well his stepmother’s sobs anyway. The hospital smells too clean, too perfect, and even if he isn’t a friend, Jackson's parents have had the good heart to let him and Scott go with them, because they are Jackson’s saviors.  
  
Even though Jackson has being in the hospital an hour, Stiles still can feel the fear he had experienced when Jackson had first blacked out in his arms, when Stiles had thought he might have lost Jackson in that very moment.  
  
After a long conversation with Scott, who had ripped apart violently the little group of jocks, and after the coach had come and dispatched the rest of the fucking bastards, Stiles is definitely experiencing something deep and dark inside him, a need for revenge that Lydia’s "take this as an advice from Alpha to Alpha, do not act this shit up in front of Jackson or he will kill you as soon as he recovers, because he will be fine" has calmed down, a little though.  
  
“Stiles, stop,” Scott snaps when two hours go by and Allison comes to support her boyfriend, who still feels a strong connection with Whittemore, a connection that is scaring the shit out of him.  
  
“Aren’t you worried?” Stiles cries out, gaining himself a roll of eyes from Lydia. "I’m damn worried, he is my Omega! And I’m supposed to take care of him,” he screams, banging a closed bedroom door with his bare fist, causing himself to flinch at the sound.  
  
After his words, a deep silence descends over the room, hard surprised looks on each one of the present’s faces. The first to break the silence is Lydia. "Your what?"  
  
“My what?” Stiles asks dumbly, turning around suddenly at the sound of the voice of the girl he has been in love with for so many years now, or so he though.  
  
“You said 'my Omega', he said it right?” she asks the others, Jackson stepparents oblivious to what that is supposed to mean their son.  
  
“You said it, Stiles,” Allison supports, nodding to her best friend, Scott just stares at Stiles, a blank look in his face.  
  
“I didn’t.” he shook his head. “Jackson is not my Omega.”  
  
“Okay, enough,” Lydia finally says after Stiles stutterer words, rising to her feet to be closer to Stiles. “Have you seen Jackson naked in the last few months?”  
  
Stiles give her a negative answer, staring at her in disbelief, still in shock, losing the debate going on, a clear ‘I’m freaking out’ printed on his face. “Have you touched him?”  
  
“Eh… no?”  
  
“What do you mean by 'eh'?”  
  
“Well I didn’t, he did, one day he shoved me against my locker. That is the close I was to touch him.” He doesn’t mention when Jackson passed out, because that might me obvious to everyone, but Scott stares at him.  
  
“He touched him too when we pull Jackson out of the bathroom,” he says, causing Lydia to give a low growl.  
  
“Were you scared?” she snaps, “on both occasions, or were you just scenting? Did he let you go quickly the first time?” She keeps asking a frown in her pale face, she doesn’t have enough make up to hide the worry lines.  
  
“What? What? I… well fuck yes… he was going to beat the shit out of me, of course I was scared to hell the first time, and yes second time too, he was lying there on the floor, not breathing harder enough… I think so, and one way or another we werewolf teenagers are always scenting, right?” Lydia nods, smart as she is, this is probably nothing for her. “But yeah, now that I remember he let go pretty easily after a while, he was babbling something about starting his training.”  
  
“Ok,” Lydia says grabbing her cell phone, dialing her speed dial, and smacking her lips after putting the phone on his ear, seconds later she says: “Hey Danny, yeah he hasn’t woken up yet, yeah I’m at the hospital right now, hey would you mind stopping by? Yeah, please, thank you.”  
  
She hangs up and stares at Stiles. "I’m going now, Danny is coming to cover my place, now you listen to me Stiles, what triggered Jackson’s heat was your scent, you weren’t scared to hell, you were trying to control him, not any other Alpha has ever had the balls to do that, but you did, and you claimed him, you triggered his heat, and the bad feelings he is been having is because you are not with him, so when he wakes up, the first thing he needs there is you. Now, Mrs. Whittemore, I’m going to your house, Jackson will probably have something there that he would be needing here after the initial shock of being mated.”  
  
“Mated? My son mated?”  
  
“Apparently he did, also, you can stop worrying yourself about having to leave Allison, Scott. Stiles is Jackson's soul mate, the one and only.” she takes off pretty quickly after that, leaving Scott relieved and with a silly smile on his face and Stiles in shock by the door.  
  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
  
Dynamics between Alphas and Omegas are pretty different from Alpha and Beta relationships; Alphas and Omega mate in the first heat, usually pretty young, but every story doesn’t have an happy ending, sometimes, an Alpha would trigger an Omega’s heat without even having the knowledge of the fact, leaving a grieving Omega alone for the rest of their life in some pretty bad cases, and in the best of the cases, the Alpha would stay with his chosen Omega their entire life; it is simple to comprehend, but harder to prevent.  
  
Like Stiles, Scott is an Alpha already mated by soul with Allison, so it is common to be scared of having to take care of another Omega, especially one so stubborn as Jackson, he is even more surprised than Stiles by Jackson's fight and break down in the bathroom, he definitely wasn’t expecting to see this new Omega turn into someone violent, defending himself like a ripe Beta or a newborn Alpha.  
  
Jackson without any doubt is a kind very uncommon of wolf; and he can not do more than to feel a pang of envy at Stiles's luck.  
  
“Scott?” Allison voice break his thoughts, and he has to smile to himself secretive, quiet, _nah, he didn’t need someone like Jackson; he had his own very special kind of werewolf._

 

 

*/*/*/*

After fumbling every little piece of dirty crap from Jackson’s bed, she finally found what she is looking for, a small sock, and seriously, can Jackson find something more disturbing from his partner in life?  
  
“A sock? Seriously?” She asks with disbelief, rolling her eyes at the piece of dirty cloth, she knows isn’t Jackson because of the Zelda’s figure in the front, “Gosh, I really don’t know which one of these two is more of an idiot.”

 

*/*/*/*

  
  
In the hospital, Jackson finally wakes up, and the first thing he notices is the sweet minty scent coming from somewhere in the white room, he doesn’t open his eyes, but he does takes a deep breath. The bed is uncomfortable, and he feels his limbs sore.  
  
He wants to move, to reach out and cover himself with his covers, but when he moves his hands, a movement from a side of the room makes his eyes fly open. He expects his mother to be sitting in the couch by the wall close the window, instead, he finds some brown eyes and a bald head.  
  
“What are you doing here?” he rasps, sitting immediately, wrong idea, he feels the world around him spin uncontrollably making him dizzy.  
  
“Hey, be careful… need to throw up?” Stiles asks, standing instantaneously at Jackson’s moving his hands to his head. “You okay?”  
  
“No… just leave me.” He speaks unclearly, forcing Stiles to bend over him to try and catch his words.  
  
“What you say?”  
  
“Leave!” he screams this time, rising his eyes to Stiles, they look red at the rim and tears are prickling from the corners, he feels helpless, Stiles can say that from one look, without needing to read Jackson’s scent. “Just go!”  
  
“Ok, ok… I’ll leave.” He says, raising his hands and doing a reassuring gesture, he walks towards the couch and grabs his square shirt, looking at Jackson and thinking how wrong Lydia was.  
  
Jackson can’t be his mate.

 

*/*/*/*

  
The thing about Stiles is that he doesn’t have luck in anything. Scott’s opinion may diverge from that, but is the cruel reality. When his mother died, he thought that that was just the beginning to an horrible life. And even if his life hadn’t been a hell for the moment, when he hears what Lydia tells him this Saturday morning, he feels like this is the end of everything.  
  
Lydia just tells him he is watching the glass half empty.  
  
“You’re watching the empty glass, stop being so dramatic.” And then she slaps his head. “Jackson needs you.”  
  
“No, he doesn’t, look Lydia, why you just don’t adopt him?” he says, rubbing his face, trying to wake up from this horrendous nightmare.  
  
“I can’t. He’s yours.” She seems pretty tired, probably is about to give up.  
  
“Who’s who?” Sheriff Stilisnki enters the little kitchen, munching on a sandwich, he looks puzzle and concern in the conversation that the two teenagers are having. “Stiles?”  
  
“Uh… dad…”  
  
“Stiles mated an Omega,” Lydia says, trying for openness instead of hiding things, though, she may not be Stiles friend, but she knows a few things about him. She went to kindergarten with him after all.  
  
“W-What?” Stiles wants to face palm himself, but stops from doing it, watching his father’s eyes open big enough to look creepy.  
  
“Yeah, dad… is, Jackson is my mate, apparently,” he rolls his eyes at Lydia’s praise sound. Because he finally accepted that he has a mated.  
  
“You…? When it happened?” his dad looks like he is about to faint, walking to a chair and taking seat.  
  
“It… I don’t know, it just happened, sorry dad.” He feels really sorry, because he doesn’t know what it means for his dad.  
  
But his father just smiles, a sad smile. It’s heartbreaking.  
  
“I’m proud of you.”  
  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
  
Not the most brilliant idea his father has had in his life. And still, Stiles is not to sure he wants to follow this plan and do something about it. Because, seriously, how can he possible feel like having Jackson in his house?  
  
“Is the right thing to do.” His father tells him, he is in front of the sink, washing his hands after breakfast. “You must go with his family and teach them what is your place and Jackson’s place.”  
  
“I can’t bring him here, dad,” He whines, praying to whoever is listens to stop this madness.  
  
“You can. So do it.”  
  
“He is gonna be pissed off, dad,” He mutters, this is not how he planned to live his life, jeez, he didn’t even think too much about the mating thing, he might have been in love with Lydia, but that was just a crush.  
  
“So? He’s an Omega, son, they’re delicate individuals, we, alphas must take care of them,” His father says with a sigh, turning around to look at his son, who looks at him with a frown.  
  
“You didn’t even believe at first that I was an alpha, dad.”  
  
The Sheriff laughs.  
  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
  
“He is angry,” Scott says, and Stiles is about to 'duh' him when his father enters in the room, there is a frown in his face, and he looks worry and a little lost at the sweet trace of smell of an Omega in heat in his house, _again_ , Stiles adds in his mind, knowing what his mother was and the reason of why his father has never been able to mate again.  
  
“Hey, dad,” he says, scratching the back of his neck.  
  
“Hey, Mr. Stilinski”  
  
“Hey guys, where is your kiddo?” he asks while opening the fridge and checking for some leftovers, strangely, there is roast chicken and potatoes, and eggs salad, nothing a Stilisnki can cook, by the way. “Who cook?”  
  
“Lydia, she's good, her food is just like heaven.” Stiles says, amaze, blushing slightly, but the color of his face drains pretty fast when Jackson's green eyes surprises him, they look torn between hurt and angry, and he feels a shiver climbing up his spine until the base of his neck, his skin turning into small pebbles. “Hey, Jackson,” he whispers slowly, closing his eyes when his fathers moans in pain after beating his head with the fridge by the sudden apparition of his new son in law.  
  
"Good Afternoon, Mr. Stilinski, sir," Jackson says politely, without stopping glaring at Stiles.  
  
“You hungry, kiddo? You’re probably hungry", smiling like the nice man he is, dad Stilisnki returns his attention to the food, still warm from the first cook. “Grab some plates, Stiles, we are having late lunch.”  
  
Waving at his son, dad Stilinski immediately put himself to work, grabbing everything from the fridge and placing it in the wood table, Jackson eyes are softer when Stiles returns with the plates and Scott with the glasses, he looks at Stiles taking his seat but then he loses in the food.  
  
Stiles decides instead to eat and forget about how his heart jumps with Jackson’s eyes on him.  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
He doesn’t even know why he has to stay there, but then, the annoying heat is making him less touchy with Stiles has a copilot, not only sleeping at the other side of the bed, but also driving him school, under the disbelief in the eyes of the others students, and the proud and relieve looks of some teachers.  
  
“You are a clusterfuck as a driver,” Jackson barks, climbing out of Stiles's jeep.  
  
“Well, thanks baby,” Stiles replies angrily, snorting when Jackson’s snaps his eyes at him, perturbed green staring right at him.  
  
“Wha’?” but he says nothing while he walks into the school ignoring a possible answer.  
  
They not talk too much, usually lost themselves into each other, watching carefully the interaction of the other with the surrounding folks, and is hard to make conversation when Jackson seems mad all the time, and Stiles looks like he is about to take a run at any moment.  
  
In the travel back home that day it happens something different, Jackson starts sobbing at his side, out of nowhere, like he just have a sudden feelings explosion.  
  
And Stiles being Stiles, panics.  
  
Pushing the brake until the tires are screaming against the pavement, the car stopping in the middle of a side street, the few pedestrians in the sidewalk looking at them with annoy expressions.  
  
But that doesn’t matter when all he wants is to reach so badly and comfort his Omega, but as soon as that thought crosses his mind, he is backing out, that is not a good idea with Jackson, in fact, nothing is a good idea with Jackson.  
  
“Jackson, you need something?” he asks softly, sitting back in his seat.  
  
Jackson stops cold, his trembling visible before, now imperceptible; his cold eyes staring right into Stiles' soul, though, no more than ten seconds, something seems to stop, and then burst in his eyes that fill pretty quickly again with tears.  
  
“I want it to stop, it hurts,” he hides his eyes with his long and shaky fingers, “please make it stop, ‘tiles,” he is so vulnerable in this moment, Stiles' Alpha instinct can tell him that, and the force of his instinct is so strong that he ends up wrapped in Jackson, the shaky limbs between his arms, the once powerful Alpha now a docile puppy, eyes firmly close, uneven breath.  
  
“Its okay…” he says in a soft voice, and ignores how good it feels have Jackson’s breath on his neck.  
  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
The doctor says that there's only one way to make it stop, and it could be a irrational thing to do for a human at this age, but for a werewolf is the right thing to do. Though, Jackson is not agreeing by the way he cross his arms in his chest and pouts, really pouts.  
  
Sex and knotting is the solution, mate with a bite is other of the solutions, but without intercourse and the bliss of being knotted, the bite will be too painful. And is obvious Jackson is scare, and that Stiles is completely unconfident of what he is doing with his life at this point, but sex is just not an option between the two of them, like Jackson take care of letting it clear between the two of them, “You dare to touch me and I fucking kill you”, his squeaky roar producing a scowl in Scott in the other side of the room, while Stile only nods, thinking that maybe he isn’t that much of an Alpha after all.  
  
So far, Jackson had move all of his school stuff, some movies and his PSP to Stiles’ room, occupying his own area of the room, sleeping on a provisional bed and sometimes in Stiles’ bed, even his tooth brush is tuck in the little plastic cup with Stiles' and Dad Stilinski's.  
  
His parents regularly visits him on the house, bringing homemade food and thanking once more to Stiles' father for taking care of his son so well, unaware that they aren’t the only family living Jackson's current situation.  
  
“So you want chocolate cake or strawberry mousse?” Stiles asks, standing under the frame of the door, observing Jackson sit in front of his black laptop, so different from Stiles' white computer.  
  
“Chocolate.”  
  
Not the answer he wants to hear.  
  
“K, need something else? Soda or maybe some melon juice? Its good for your skin,” Jackson glare makes him nervous, “or so I have read.”  
  
“Just water.”  
  
“Ok, oh and I'm meeting with Scott tonight, so you be staying on your own if that’s not a problem.”  
  
“It’s a problem already,” Jackson snaps.  
  
“Oh… well, in that case…”  
  
Scott is going to kill him.  
  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
  
“Why did you bring him here?” Scott heavy breath feels like a lion’s breathing in his shoulder.  
  
Of course it is a problem for him, maybe Jackson is an Omega now, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling jealous of the way he is playing bowling with Allison and Lydia, and Erica, the three of them treating him like he is some kind of hero, making so much noise to Jackson’s perfect shots, and both, Scott and Stiles knows that this is only because they are happy to see Jackson laugh and enjoy something after a long period of sorrow.  
  
He can not deny he is relieved to finally see his Omega in a good humor. Actually smiling, and challenging Scott, who, partly mad and partly relieve to see finally some peace at Stiles’ face, replies to any of Jackson’s words without using his scent.  
  
The game extends past nine, Stiles doesn’t even have the courage to try and compete with his mate or his friends, he just stays by himself in the booth, jumping and screaming at any good shot, but trying with all of his spirit to be left behind.  
  
Though, in a moment that night, he could swear that Jackson’s eyes are on him, his gaze worried and troubled.  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
Jackson isn’t able to understand why Stiles had not mention a word in the entire journey back home, he is in his dark corner in the pilot seat, silent, looking concern, distress.  
  
He wants to ask, but knows how hard it is to do it with Stiles, someone he is supposed to not care at all. But things need to change. He needs to start putting in practice Lydia’s advices.  
  
“Stiles,” he croaks, but his companion doesn’t seem to notice him. So he just drop the entire thing of make Stiles better, just like Stiles has soothed a lot of the distress of the past weeks today.  
  
As soon as the house door is closed behind him, the doorknob is buried in his lower back, causing a pained moan in him that gets swallowed by Stiles mouth, the kiss is furious, filled with repressed desire, and something that Jackson can’t put his finger on, something liquid that travels all over his blood, making him open his legs, letting his partner to fill the hole, and then all sinks in.  
  
“Stiles stop,” moans the Omega, sobbing harder when he feels Stiles' hands on his hips, “stop it, please, Stiles stop, stop this,” he moans so desperately that Stiles can not quite understand him, but when he let go of his body, Jackson sees the fear and lust on the smaller boy.  
  
“I'm sorry,” Stiles mutters out of breath, and Jackson can see his own spit on Stiles' chin, before the young Stilinski run from the house, leaving him with a hard on and a bunch of thoughts in his head.  
  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
Two days pass and the heat seems to have stop that night, no more headaches, back pains, weird moods, and even if Jackson can quite come around at the though of Stiles Stilinksi, the bald freak, and him, a descendent of a Greek god, had kiss, a goddamn good kiss, in the hallway of his new home, he still could mental fist pump in the air, knowing that the doctor's solution hadn’t been right.  
  
“The doctor's right,” Allison says, she is reading the book that their history teacher sent them to redact in an essay, The Scarlet Letter, boring book with an even worse movie. “A kiss, or a hand job, in the case of you males Omegas, is enough to trick the heat, but it'll come back, sooner than later.”  
  
“Well, thanks sweetheart,” Jackson growls and sits back in the chair.  
  
“Hey”, comes the angry voice from Scott, who is putting his chemistry books on the table, "don’t talk to my girlfriend like that”.  
  
Jackson’s reply get stuck in his throat when he raises his eyes to look at Scott, unavoidable looking at Stiles in the process; his cheeks go a deep red, and giving a stuttered “I have things to do,” he rises from his seat and walks away.  
  
It has been like this for the heat-free two days  
  
Avoiding looking each other in the face.  
  
He even had the nerve to go to his own house, and avoid Stiles’ looks in the hall, and how much he missed his presence. He has been doing all that in the last two days.  
  
“Jackson,” Lydia’s voice calls him when he crosses the cafeteria, his backpack pushed hard in his side when he strides harder from the place. “Jackson Whittemore, stop now,” her Alpha voice sends a shiver down his spine, something that feels like when Stiles accidentally touches him.  
  
“What?” he asks softly, turning around. “I need...”  
  
“I’m pretty sure you don’t know what the fuck you need or want,” she states, angrier than ever. “What do you think you're doing? Running away like that from your Alpha? Are you nuts or are you just trying to be heroic?”  
  
“Lydia, is not like he's gonna beat me, and he doesn’t own me.”  
  
Lydia expression told him otherwise.  
  
“Is that what your stupid mind has been telling you? You are even more of an idiot than I thought you were.” A bunch of eyes look in their direction, making him feel the idiot Lydia is making of him, still, he has no idea how to answer to that. “He may as well give out and beat you, are you aware of how low Omega’s rights are?”  
  
Later that day, he is walking to his Porsche when he sees Erica, she looks less human everyday, bitten by a stray wolf a few months ago, she is experimenting the change pretty fast, though, that is not what catches the interest of Whittemore; it is how she has cornered Stiles against Stiles' jeep; her lips talking words he is not capable of hearing from such a distance.  
  
And maybe the jealousy is irrational, considering everything. But he does not care, not when all he wants is to reach her and tear her apart with his fingers. She may be a good friend, always trying to cheer him up, but when it comes to Stiles, he can’t deny, it’s too late, that she is his part time rival.  
  
He may be dumb at some stuff, but he is perfectly conscious of the thrills between Alphas and Omegas. And if Stiles is his, then Stiles can not look at any other person but him, though, that is not an impediment to Jackson for thinking Stiles might be cheating on him.  
  
And no one will make him think otherwise, not a single soul. So he does not stop in his way to where Stiles is.  
  
“Stiles,” his voice an audible roar in the middle of the student’s parking lot. Stiles' eyes are immediately on him, ‘what are you doing?' Jackson's mind screams on every step he takes to reach Stiles, “Aren’t you planning on taking me home or do I have to wait another hour for you to finish with your girlfriend? I'm having cramps and I can’t drive, so do fucking something, n.o.w.”  
  
So yeah, he sounds like a cheap bitch, or worse. But he does not care at all, he is defending territory.  
  
And apparently, it only takes Stiles a few seconds for the words to sink in, so he finally moves towards the copilot door of his jeeps, he opens the door and waits for Jackson to climb in, his face tomato red.  
  
“This never happened.”  
  
And that is pretty much a perfect ending for the day.  
  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
Waiting for his mate to show up is more boring than Stiles can have think about, he was starting to feel anxious about what Jackson may be doing in Lydia's house; this scene is not by chance the first of the week, he may be sitting in his jeep for an hour, maybe half if he was lucky, listening through all of his rock music in his Ipod, humming along with the songs, and tapping his fingers on the door frame, trying to not think anything about everything, blocking his surroundings, focusing on the music to stop himself from going crazy.  
  
It is not that he needs to know what Jackson is doing in Lydia's; he is fine with the "none of your business" Jackson had gave him last week; it is why Jackson always entered with an scowl and how he came out with a bright smile.  
  
Like he is adapting.  
  
“Hey, wanna grab dinner?” surprised by Jackson's voice he jumps in his seat. “What's wrong with you?” Jackson asks, leaning on Stiles' door, “Your dad called me, and told me he wasn’t going to be home early, and I want dinner out,” he says, and even though Stiles is listening, he is still a bit lost in his mate’s soft smile, "Hey, jerk, are you listening to me?" Jackson presses one of his fingers on Stiles forehead, trying wake him up from whatever he is dreaming about.  
  
“Ouch, I'm listening! No need to use violence in this,” he moans touching where he is hurt. “so my dad called you? Why he didn’t call me? I'm his son.”  
  
“And apparently I'm a lot more responsible than you, so suck it, Stilinski,” even if Jackson sounds like the hiss of a snake, there is a soft mocking tone in his voice. “Anyway, take me dinner, and maybe I'll make your life easy,” it sounds tempting; it sounds almost like an indecent proposition, until… “Are you scenting?” Jackson asks snapping Stiles out of his thoughts, “gross, don’t,” he mutters but there is a shy blush creeping up his cheeks.  
  
There is a diner on Coulson Street. And with the nice thought of been a good mate, Stiles buys everything Lydia texts him in the last five minutes, before Jackson can even have the time to notice what he is doing.  
  
So, when Jackson finally notices, they are already on the house. And he has this expression, this face hard to read. Hard to _reach._  
  
“How did you…?” He starts, scowling. “Where did you…?” He finally gives up, shaking his head and taking the food and some plates to Stiles’ bedroom.  
  
Stiles breaths again and smiles, takes the sodas from the fridge and follows Jackson. When he gets to the room, Jackson is sitting on the floor, Stiles’ computer monitor is on the floor too, connected to Jackson’s laptop.  
  
“Hey, I’m gonna watch a classic.” Jackson smiles, waving in the air a movie. “A Tom Cruise movie.”  
  
Fried chicken with tacos and a lot of guacamole, all along with ‘War of the Worlds’, not so cool for Stiles, who is reconsidering if feeling horny with Jackson is worthy considering Jackson’s definition of a classic movie.  
  
Jackson with his stretches legs and a bowl of something really nasty on his side, is really deep in the movie half an hour later, Stiles on the other hand, is barely keeping up, the clock marking already Saturday, at one am, and also, telling him it is past his time already.  
  
His partner is now munching on his food completely awake. And there is something really beautiful in Jackson under the faint light of the monitor, his green eyes greener than ever, filled with something close to fear; his matching frown keeping the same expression until finally he noticed Stiles' examination of his face.  
  
“What?” his voice is barely hearable over the movie noise.  
  
“N-Nothing,” the shaky answer is not good enough for someone so secure of himself like Jackson. “Seriously, what?” if only Jackson was capable of doing things rights, of being like any other Omega, answering to that question would be easy as cake, but its not, so Stiles does not have many choices. “I'm almost asleep, going to bed now,” he sputters while rising to his feet and running toward his bed.  
  
“Stiles?” Jackson asks, but Stiles is already on the bed, which is cold when he lets himself crawl under the covers, cursing the need to snuggle to another body, body with a name by the way, he just covers himself until only his face is visible.  
  
With the lame lost hope that Jackson might change his mind and turn into a loving mate, he closes his eyes, breathing the scent left by his mate in the room, it is ripe and sweet, announcing that there is a heat coming, that his first heat is not over and that there is not a chance in hell it would be over in the next few years; god, what had he done to deserve years of celibacy?  
  
He does not want to be miserable like his dad; he wants to be happy, with a sweet mate, and regular sex, like Scott, sort of, and maybe a ‘good morning’ before he is even awake.  
  
“Stiles,” his name called in a deep voice makes his eyes open, falling right in the middle of a green pool.  
  
“Jackson,” he says, not having the chance to stop Jackson from what he does next  
  
Jackson's lips are on him, rabid, and demanding, licking inside his mouth in no time, almost devouring each one of his teeth and the roof of his mouth, but not only their mouths are crashing, but their entire bodies, Jackson’s hips are over his, Jackson's arms on each side of his head, Jackson is fucking everywhere.  
  
It’s so difficult to talk or to think in a moment like this.  
  
“Stiles… I’m so scared…” Jackson whispers when he finally let go of Stiles’ lips.  
  
“Shhh…” thank god the lights are turn off, because that way Jackson does not have to feel more uncomfortable than he already is. There is not need to see his blush, because, touching his face with both hands, Stiles can feel the heat coming from them. “You are so beautiful, Jackson,” And not only Jackson is scared, he is too, afraid of screwing everything with one gesture.  
  
“I don’t want to be like this.” He listens to his mate say. Hears the grief in his voice. He wants to say so many things, but he doesn’t know where to start, Jackson’s feelings are so confusing these days. “I just…”  
  
“I know what you want.” The words slip from him with such a confidence, that it take him more than a second to notice that is his instinct talking. “You want me, you need me, and it scares you… but I want you too, Jackson.”  
  
Saying his name seems to trigger the next kiss, Jackson’s hands on his cheek, this time his hips are moving against Stiles’s, rubbing their cocks together, it’s a good friction, and leaves Jackson panting for more, wanting for more.  
  
“Give me your hand…” he says, but before Stiles can register what he is saying, Jackson reaches, holding Stiles hand. The movement is unpredictable for a daze Stiles, but as soon as his hand touches Jackson’s cock, he goes with the program.  
  
They jack each other off, hand in their pants, sharing breaths and sweat, and they feel so together that their heads hurt.  
  
“Jackson… please…” its surprising that is the alpha the one doing the begging, humping Jackson’s fist. A warm cocoon of flesh, lubricated with saliva, god, his mate’s saliva.  
  
He comes when Jackson’s other hand makes its way inside the pants and take a hold of his knot, his cum tainting his boxers, a second later Jackson comes over him, pained moans coming out from his plump mouth.  
  
“That was good…” Stiles whispers, closing his eyes.  
  
“I need a shower.”  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
After the hand job, both are perfectly fine with each other, no screaming, fighting over silly subjects and no awkward moments, not even the morning after, in which Jackson wakes up with all of his limbs trapping Stiles’ smaller body.  
  
He didn’t even dignify his attitude with words, just untangled himself from Stiles, yawning all the way to the bathroom.  
  
Now, though, they are in the cafeteria, Stiles sitting with Scott, Allison and Erica, having lunch over history books and pads open.  
  
“So what with your radiant expression?” Erica is the first one to make a comment, though, Stiles is perfectly conscious of Scott's curious look and Allison's suspicious glare for a long time now.  
  
He is pretty sure he is beaming then.  
  
“What? Nada.”  
  
“Oh, c'mon, I’ve had enough spit it out, now,” Scott Alpha snarl does nothing to him but tickles under his ears, sure, he is not that stupid, Scott may be his friend, but a mocking sign and his friend will be over him, eating him alive.  
  
“Did you...?” Allison is least subtle in his question, a lot less.  
  
“Yeah, ok,” he finally gives up, sighing harsh, “but not all the way into.” He says with a warning in his voice.  
  
Erica unexpectedly jumps on him, a kind of hug that crushes his ribs until there is the harsh sound of a tray touching, more like slamming, onto the table, Erica and Stiles look at the same time up, finding Jackson eyes, he looks completely piss off.  
  
“Gonna eat over with Lydia,” he mumbles before taking his tray and walking away.  
  
“And there goes my progress,” Stiles breaths, feeling exasperate and touchy, and no longer hungry, assuming that this new depressive state of his is because of Jackson, and probably by night he will have run out of Adderall.  
  
“Force him.”  
  
Three heads turned quickly to the voice that pronounce those words, Allison face as soft as usual stare right at them before bursting in laugh.  
  
“What? Do it, call him and tell him you need him here, Omegas may be more docile than Betas, but we're a bunch more stubborn.” Scott has a silly smile on his lips, Erica instead is noting all in her pad, “Do it, Stiles.”  
  
Stiles, suffering for instant braveness, rises from his seat, saying to himself that if it doesn’t work, he can kill Scott later.  
  
Lydia's table is full of popular people, so its not odd that when Stiles shows up in front of them, the contempt looks are on him in a second, Lydia herself has a scorn look in her eyes. “Hey, guys,” he says awkwardly, raising his hand to wave at people, Jackson eyes are on him, assessing. “I… er, just want, Jackson I want you to have lunch with me,” he is just an inch from saying please, but he doesn’t.  
  
Oddly, Jackson rises from his seat, his plate in his hand, he says “fine,” and Stiles is beaming, thinking that everything is going to be better again, so happy he is, that he has the nerve to ask for Jackson's tray so he can carry over to Scott’s table, of course, its Jackson, he may be an Omega, but not a weak one.  
  
“Don’t,” He barks, and Stiles remembers Allison’s words, so he pulls the tray harder, Jackson does the same, and predictably, the tray flies in the air, spreading pasta all over the popular kids, the soda landing on Lydia's head.  
  
And jeez, when his life stuff have been just normal, damn it.  
  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
Jackson is completely awake in math class, probably because Lydia is mumbling shit numbers under her breath by his side, and its annoying as hell, but if not like he is going to say it, he loves his genitalia, for more useless that had been lately.  
  
By lunch, he has faced a bunch of jerks asking him out, all of them from the sophomore year; thanks to his performance in the bathroom almost a month ago now, the seniors have left him alone, by respect or disapproval, whatever the reason is, they don’t bother him anymore.  
  
The matter is, today, after opening himself to Stiles for minutes, last night, he feels lighter, better than when they kissed like a million years ago.  
  
So when he sees an empty seat in the table Stiles is sitting in, he feels longing for his presence-“How bad can be?” he asks in low voice, filling his plate with pasta and a soda, he doesn’t feel hungry, but he needs a cover for his behavior right?  
  
When he is about to reach the table, he sees how Erica, again, throw her arms around Stiles neck, and that is for him, the anger boiling slowly in his stomach, too much for nothing, he thinks while letting his tray fall hard in the table, he doesn’t even care Scott yelps.  
  
As soon as Stiles' eyes are on him, he fires the asshole for a mate he has a dirty look. “Gonna eat over with Lydia,” he says, grabbing his tray, and turning around, he doesn’t have any reason to stand this shit, not with Stiles been such an indecent mate, how dare he to do that? Can he sense him or smell him?  
  
Growling, he takes a seat in front of Lydia, who raises an eyebrow but doesn’t says anything, he misses sitting by her side, being the focus of her attention, but now she has Peter, the human, and he has... Stiles.  
  
Its pathetic how devastated he feels, disappointed is his major expression, angry, mostly angry at everything. But before he can get a taste of his food, not attractive at all, he smells the delicious scent of mint and books pages, and too much ink on fingers, Stiles, he thinks before letting his eyes follow up the source of the nice smell.  
  
It is, indeed, Stiles, standing awkwardly in front of the table, he says something blabbering, and even before Jackson can register what he is doing, his body is standing, the tray in his hands, he feels out of himself, but Stiles expression causes his heart to flip, and Jesus, he is supposed to be mad at the idiot, how is it that he is not?  
  
Though, everything can’t be that pretty, and for what he can tell, its the fault of his and Stiles personality.  
  
When Lydia screams, soda dripping from her perfect hair, he feels his knees bend, and understand what it means, he is an Omega after all, its his instinct to react passively.  
  
“I'm done with you two,” she screams, rising from his seat, her entire body trembling with rage. “I'm freaking done,” she says again, using a word Jackson never have heard in her extensive vocabulary, but then Peter is holding her shoulder, forcing her to sit, a little push.  
  
Jackson reacts by an instinct he didn’t think he had, its possession and stress, and he knows he is going to regret this, jumping over someone in the middle of the cafeteria has never been wise. He punches Peter twice before the real disaster starts.  
  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
Even though Jackson is completely aware that his behavior hadn’t be right, in the more strict sense, he is not about to regret what he did now; not for a minute, Peter completely deserved that punch for touching Lydia and forcing her to summit to his human power, or whatever he had done in the cafeteria.  
  
That hadn’t be extremely necessary, the punch, not touching Lydia, but considering Peter is a human and Lydia an Alpha that could easily take care of herself without anyone help, less an Omega, but Jackson, having traces of Alpha behavior still in him, had just reacted on pure instinct, kicking the guy and then punching him in his stomach.  
  
Not the sagest thing he had ever done.  
  
Now, Scott is sitting by his side, his arms tense and his mouth a thin line of rejection to his behavior, Stiles is nowhere to be seen, and Erica is making rounds, watching him and Scott, trying to be there for when finally the levees breaks between them.  
  
Still, he is not capable of understanding the reason he is there, in an old trailer in the middle of fucking nowhere with fucking Scott Mccall, waiting for a jerk that is intending to help him with his anger management, like he cares about that, he has more important stuff to be worrying about.  
  
Derek Hale is one of those werewolf freaks that actually lives in a cabin (trailer in this case) in the middle of the woods, the type that does yoga on lazy afternoon and hunts their own raw food, anyone in school knows about the Hales, the fire that reduced the big house to ashes and killed and the entire family, also, everyone knows that making friends with the only survivor is just madness, but then, there's always a group of jerks that never listen to any kind of warning.  
  
Like his mate and this jerk at his side.  
  
“Why are we here again?” He asks, hiding the trembling of his hands.  
  
By mere luck, Erica decides to enter in the room, saving Jackson from one barked answer by McCall.  
  
“Derek will be here in a minute, Stiles already found him.” Stiles, Stiles, there is something in the way she says his name that makes Jackson clench his teeth and his fists.  
  
“Where's he?” he asks through clenched teeth.  
  
“Coming with Derek in his jeep, don’t worry, he'll be here.” She seems to be feeling sorry for him, but before he can truly explode, she just turns her attention to Scott, “Allison is coming too," that seems to calm the Alpha, who lets out a shaky breath.  
  
After Erica is gone, Jackson allows himself to let his eyes run over the room he is in, humid and silent but for the sound of his and Scott's breathing, the bed is at the left end, tidily made, with one pillow at the head, it does not look too comfortable, but for what he thinks of this guy already, he can sleep out in the trees and doesn't really care about the bugs.  
  
At the end he and Scott are sitting, there's a small couch, two chairs and a table with some carnival pamphlets on it and the key set Scott used to open the trailer when they first got here, he wonders how much the guys knows this man, how trust the guy puts in them to handle his house keys.  
  
“McCall,” Jackson is not really sure why he talks to his worst enemy, but instead of receiving a despicable look, he just gets a “mmmm?” which is not that bad, considering, “why do I have to see this fr… guy?”  
  
“You need someone to guide you,” he says, like that could explain his current situation. Scott seems lost in his thoughts.  
  
“And why are you here?” he’d rather ignore the ‘guide’ you shit, because there is no way someone is going to tell him what to do.  
  
“God, when are you gonna understand?” he barks. “You’re pack, man, my pack, you may be Stiles' bitch, but this is my pack and is my responsibility.”  
  
“Pack?”  
  
No shit.

 

 

*/*/*/*

He didn’t know it could be that hard, just ask for a little peace in his day to day life; a little bit of calm where there was only angst, but then, this is completely stupid, one moment he is sitting by Scott side talking about nonsense, and the next one he is in the principal's office with Jackson, Lydia and Peter, the first two screaming at each other, and the last one trying to not freak out.  
  
The worst is when Lydia notices him, but he rather, preferably, to not remember shit about that moment, except, he has to do something now, because this is not about Jackson anymore, this is about them, about their pack, and the stability of it.  
  
So yeah, he knows its far from sane to kidnap Jackson, to grab him by his arm and drag him towards Scott's car, but he knows is the best.  
  
The big problem is, though, finding Derek.  
  
Derek is pack too, had been pack even before Allison came to the school, actually, he made himself pack when he helped Scott to focus, first year of his Alpha being, at age fourteen, really young, totally lost, but then, they meet Derek on one of his travels to the woods, playing hunters of strays wolves, trying to be grown up.  
  
So, when Scott lost it today, the solution was clear, either Jackson learns how to behave, or Stiles will have to a)be an Alpha once and for all and make Jackson submit or b) he will have to leave the pack for pack's sake.  
  
Though, Jackson is not the last addition to the pack, no, that is Erica’s place, the new wolf that sees in him a guide, a friend who understand how she feels, and who sympathizes with Jackson, still, he wonders how Jackson interprets their relationship, if he sees her as a problem  
  
Especially, after the cafeteria show.  
  
“Nah, that's impossible, he barely looks at me like I'm his Alpha...” he mutters, fingers tapping the wheel at the rhythm of his jeep's music, “maybe I'm just as bad as he is,” shaking his head, he actually pays attention to the road, a deserted street in the middle of fucking nowhere, California.  
  
According to Derek's last text, he is here for a session with an old hag, boring, but he has to earn his own money, because despite Derek eating animals in the woods, he has to wear something.  
  
Fact is, that Derek is on the side of the road, never ending calm expression on his face, even if to a stranger he would just look like he is mad at everything.  
  
“Hey, there, honey,” Stiles smiles at the raised eyebrow, “What? Not sugary enough?”  
  
“Just shut up and drive.” Derek is pretty serious for a Beta, a good keeper of secrets if you need one, but a better warrior on his own.  
  
Stiles hasn’t seen him in a while, and it surprises him how more of the same Derek is.  
  
“You’re a mess, an horrible mess.” yeah, Stiles knows that, he does not need Derek saying it, because hearing someone like Derek talking about his current state just makes shit more real than they were before.  
  
“How is that you lost it so badly? You were so cool when I last saw you, Scott was supposed to be the messed up one, and you were supposed to be…”  
  
“I'm not supposed to be shit,” he growls, because he is mad, and hurts that he is so transparent to Derek, or to someone, and he does not want a stupid Beta telling him that.  
  
He stops at that last thought, breathing harder.  
  
“You’re supposed to be neat,” Derek keep saying, totally aware of Stiles thoughts, and not giving a shit. He has had to deal with a bunch of tough Alphas in his life, ones more dangerous than others, and all then had accepted his guidance.  
  
Stiles is conscious that Derek's assessing gaze is on him, but he doesn’t show, “I'm just saying that this isn't you, and that is wrong, and that’s why I’m dying to meet this guy, he probably is some kind of Omega god, or something,” he says mockingly.  
  
Stiles can’t do more than laugh.  
  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
When they reach the trailer, Jackson is sitting on the stairs of the entry. He is looking boring, and not as angry as Stiles thought he may be. Even Scott is quiet, sitting on the grass, eyes closed, Allison sitting by his side reading a book.  
  
There is no sight of Erica, but Isaac is there, lying against a tire, probably the most bored looking of the four. He doesn’t have any idea what Isaac is doing there, but if he is Erica replacement, then things may be quiet here.  
  
“Hey, guys,” he says, feeling lighter when he sees Jackson raise his eyes to him without apparent hate. “Look who’s back.”  
  
“Derek,” Scott says, standing, smiling while Derek smiled back. “Good to see you.”  
  
“Good to see you, too. Looking taller, and better than last time,” he looks at Allison, who smiles at him.  
  
“Yeah…” Scott actually blushes, scratching the back of his neck and looking at the floor.  
  
But Derek’s attention is no longer on him, its on Jackson, who looks at him with curiosity, Derek’s gaze is intent, trying to read the young Omega, everyone pays attention but Isaac, who is singing along with the small radio in his hands.  
  
Stiles’ nerves are soggy, sweating out of him. It feels like he is gonna burst into flames at any moment; until finally he can’t cope with the silence. “So… guys,” he says, clapping his hands and walking, or trying to walk, because Derek’s hand is on his chest in a second.  
  
“Wait,” He says, like its easy to just wait for the big news that his Omega is malfunctioning and useless. “Your name is Jackson, am I wrong?” Hale’s asking, moving until he is in front of Jackson, pale and uneasy, “don’t worry, this isn’t a test, whatever Scott has told you about me, I’m not here to mess with you. Just talk, ok?”  
  
“Yeah…” Jackson looks all but calm, but at least he is not throwing punches.  
  
“I don’t know why are we doing this, we all know that Peter isss an assshole…” Isaac hisses from where he is sitting.  
  
“Isaac!” Scott and Stiles snap at the same time.  
  
“Shuddup,” Scott growls, taking him by an arm and pulling him away. Allison follows them, leaving Derek with Stiles and his mate.  
  
Derek laughs, and without caring too much what Jackson may think, he sits at his side on the stairs. “I’m not some magical shaman from the woods, you know? I just read people, sometimes pretty good, others not so much.”  
  
“And?” Stiles frowns, thinking Jackson is not being to respectful to Derek, maybe because he doesn’t know what is it to be pinned to the floor by the bigger Beta.  
  
“And… and I want to help you.”  
  
“You just want to help Stiles to fuck me up more than I already am,” Jackson mumbles, perfectly audible for the other two.  
  
“You’re not fucked up, Jackson,” to Whittemore’s surprise, its Stiles who says it, he looks angry now. “You’re just different…” he says with less conviction now.  
  
It causes a laugh from Derek.  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
When Jackson sees Derek the first time, he almost faints, thinking of every possible way to the street, sure, he doesn’t even know how Scott drove them there without a map, the site is in freaking nowhere, California.  
  
But after Stiles asks Derek what he wants to do, Jackson realizes that this is about him, that it doesn’t matter that Allison is there and Scott brought him here, or that Erica left for basketball and pie, and that Isaac is an psycho who has nothing to do there, it’s about him.  
  
“Mmm. Hey, you,” Derek says, Jackson focuses his eyes on him, watching the beta smirk. “Wanna spend the night here? These folks have homework to do, well, maybe not that psycho,” he says pointing at Isaac who sings ‘Living La vida loca' louder, “anyway, wanna stay?”  
  
Derek's scent is gentle, despite his serial killer expression; he doesn’t know what to say, so just nods, receiving a collective gasp who forces him to bark “what? Jerks”  
  
When Stiles is going to leave, standing awkwardly in front of him, Scott and Allison, plus Isaac, long gone by now.  
  
“What?” he finally breathes out, causing his mate to fidget even more.  
  
“Just, if you want to leave, call me, no matter what time of the night is, I’ll be here for you,” he nods, again without being sure of what to say, Stiles stays a little more before leaving.  
  
“So, you’re Jackson,” Derek says, passing by his side, “c'mon in, bugs are pretty bitchy at this hour.”  
  
When they’re in, Jackson sits on the couch, choosing to stay out of the old Beta’s way. “I have fish,” Derek states, his expression softer, “want some?”  
  
“Yeah, please,” its awkward to interact with this complete stranger.  
  
“You need to eat since you aren’t having sex.”  
  
“What?” he has the decency to blush, thinking ‘What the fuck?”  
  
“You and Stiles,” Derek shrugs, leaning against the trailer wall.  
  
“He told you that?” Jackson asks, feeling bizarrely betrayed.  
  
“Everyone told me, Scott, Isaac, Erica, even Boyd.” Derek truly looks amused.  
  
“Well, that’s not your problem,” he growls, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
“It is when affects my pack, you know how cranky Scott had been lately? I can sense that from just one look at him.” Derek puts a beer in front of Jackson and a plate of fried sardines, not salad. Just horrible fish.  
  
“Though beer was forbidden,” Jackson says, but grabs it anyway.  
  
“It is when you’re pregnant,” Jackson pales, eyes deer-in-the-headlight-looking, staring at Derek’s smirk. “Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure that when that happens you'll be long into your relationship with Stiles.”  
  
“That'll never happen,” Jackson snaps, feeling disgusted in his own skin.  
  
“Feel that?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You don’t feel good in your body, you’re feeling like it betrayed you, that you don’t belong inside there anymore,” The Beta's eyes are softer while he sits in front of Jackson, “you probably had thought about it, don’t ya?” Jackson blushes this time, hiding his eyes with shame, yeah he had, but suicide never had been brave enough for him (do you mean that Jackson thinks that suicide is the coward’s way out, of that Jackson had never been brave enough to kill himself?), “I know, I thought that myself, after losing everyone, but I fought my way through it.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“And? And probably I’ll be of some help, not for my friends, but for you, I’m worried about what Stiles told me.” He says, sounding concerned.  
  
“What? He told you I’m not good in bed?”  
  
“No, he told me your parents are human,” Jackson stares, confused and lost, what does this man means by saying that, his parents are just normal parents. “Yeah I know, that’s the problem, they are too normal, you know how a baby wolf knows what they are? Because of the mother, at age ten, werewolves stop being petted by their mother, Omegas are pretty fond of their mother, so they will look for petting until they found their own mate, Betas will stop looking for petting after a few weeks, and alphas will never look back, that’s the difference, you never have a mother to guide you, and your human mother stop producing that scent after you could speak for yourself, and Stiles…”  
  
“His mother died,” Jackson says, wondering how he got to know that.  
  
“Yes, she died, when he was a cub, he never stops missing the lost year of his life,” Jackson eyes are shining with tears that he tries to hide, his body suddenly aware of what he needs.  
  
“I…”  
  
“Its okay, I'll call Stiles.” Derek is getting on his feet, when Jackson reaches out, grabbing his arms, the contact burns between them, and Jackson can recognize it, it means they're pack, he needs it.  
  
“Scott,” Derek mutters, and Jackson lets go of his arms.  
  
Scott is there twenty minutes later, his mom’s car in the pretend driveway, when he enters the room Jackson is curled between the sheets, watching cartoons on a small TV he hadn’t seen before, Scott lets out a breath and sits by his side, and just his warmth is enough for Jackson to feel lighter, sleepy but a lot better than he was before.  
  
“I’ll sleep outside if none of you mind,” Derek announces and doesn’t wait for an answer.  
  
“Want water?” Scott asks, he is concerned by Jackson. His voice gives him away, but Jackson hand is on him, grabbing him by his shirt, the touch says “stays”, and Scott understands it perfectly.  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
By morning, Jackson feels like he never had slept this well; he is curled in the sheets, head hiding under the pillow, hiding from the light coming from outside.  
  
“Hey.” a soft caress to his back sends a cold shiver through his body, and he is awake so quickly his head spins madly, “want breakfast before school?”  
  
Derek's voice is saying through the sound (and smell) of bacon frying in the small kitchen, and god, how had he forgotten about school? But then he remembers, his cheeks lighting up a little bit, “McCall?”  
  
“Outside taking a bath in the lake,” He says and huffs, like an old man. Yeah, exactly like Stiles’ dad.  
  
“Isn’t that like a hundred degrees down?” He whispers, rubbing his eyes.  
  
“It works him well.”  
  
“Why?” he asks, standing and walking between what looks like Scott’s clothes.  
  
“Yesterday he finally understood you aren’t leaving and that even if he isn’t your alpha, he still has a responsibility with you, and that he has a pack.” The silence takes part of the kitchen for enough minutes to make Jackson uncomfortable.  
  
“You mean Scott didn’t know he had a pack?”  
  
“Oh he did, just that you’re the first one in the pack needing him as an alpha.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
“I think he’s gonna kill in your sleep, dude.” Boyd is sitting across the table, staring at the cafeteria, probably thinking in going back and ask for another burrito, today’s special.  
  
“He won’t,” Scott says, slapping Isaac's hand from his plate, Allison is laughing at something Erica is telling her, looking oblivious to their conversation about what Jackson might do when he gets home, he actually decided yesterday to spend the night with Derek, a shocking shit for everyone.  
  
“Oh god, he will kill me Scott,” Stiles whines, holding his head.  
  
“He is your omega, he won’t,” Scott says, starting to getting tired of Stiles' bullshit. "Stiles, listen to me…”  
  
“Stiles,” Jackson is at the end of the table, unreadable expression, “we need to talk.” Stiles paled with those words, rising from his seat like a robot, bile gurgling in his throat.  
  
“Yeah, ok,” he whispers, following Jackson.  
  
For a moment he questions Derek's abilities, it’s not like he is expecting some sort of miracle, far from that, but having Jackson in front of him, his cold scent washing over him, not heat everywhere, just pure control, he doubts that Derek had the intention to make him submit to Stiles or to love Stiles.  
  
“Ouch,” he moans when his nose goes straight into Jackson’s collar bone, waking for his mind-fuckery and staring a Jackson, who had stop a few seconds ago and he hasn’t even noticed. He fears look at Jackson's eyes, but does anyway, he looks appeased.  
  
“You done?” he questions, “Fine,” what he does next is unexpected, he grabs Stiles by his shirt and slams him against a locker, it hurts, hurts badly, and before Stiles can complain about, he is talking again, “this is how I’m gonna do it” he hisses, frowning hard, “you're gonna sit with me in every class, gonna feed me, and be with me wherever I freaking want, if I’m gonna be your bitch then you’re gonna be mine, capisce?”  
  
It’s not like he has any option.  
  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
He is terrible hungry, sitting at Jackson side while he is meditating, Derek's idea; he says that with a lot of meditation, Jackson would learn how to control himself, not how he had wanted to spend the winter break, but it’s better than nothing.  
  
Jackson has improved a lot, and even if Derek keeps saying it was all Stiles’ doing, Stiles is pretty damn sure that Jackson is improving pretty well on his own.  
  
“Stiles.” he jumps, staring at Jackson now open eyes.  
  
“Jeez, you scared me.”  
  
“Sorry, didn’t mean to.” He looks asleep, eyes smaller than usual, green appeased, “your stomach doesn’t let me concentrate.”  
  
Stiles laughs, biting his tongue, “Sorry man, can’t function with my soul empty.” A shadow crosses Jackson's eyes with the words.  
  
“Yeah?” he says, and Stiles immediately answers.  
  
“Yeah, man.”  
  
Stiles is completely oblivious to Jackson's discomfort toward his words. “Allison made us lunch.”  
  
“Really?” Stiles rises immediately, flying to Jackson’s backpack. “Wanna eat now?” he asks from his position, observing Jackson remain still while staring at him, “Jackson?”  
  
"Yeah, here, c'mere,” He really seems to be a different person. “Did you miss her?” while Stiles is munching, he asks a question that had been disturbing him for a long time now; because Stiles and he are so different that is hard to be in his shoes, to imagine the pain.  
  
“Who?”  
  
“Your... your mom.”  
  
Stiles stares at him, “I’m on Adderall, what you think?” he says, smiling, and keeps eating, not caring much about Jackson astonishment, “Nah, I’m fine, actually I tell that to everybody, Adderall is for hyper-activity, not an anti-depresant.”  
  
“You... isn’t that the same? I’m sorry,” He mutters.  
  
“No, it’s okay, really man.” he says, shaking his head, then stops, “well, it’s not okay, but you know.”  
  
A delicate breeze ruffles Jackson's blond hair, his eyes closing as he enjoys the caress and thinks about his own mother, his biological mother, would it have felt like this to be touched by her? He will never know, so the only way to find out will be...  
  
His lashes flicker under another familiar touch, a hand on his cheek, a thumb touching his eyelids, Stiles’ hand feels right on him. So do his lips.  
  
He kisses quietly, afraid of the first contact, fearing the lips touching, dry and eager and freaking nervous. After the initial fear, need takes over, need for a more personal touch, more humid and torrid with passion, but they move slow on that subject, they advance carefully, both of Stiles hands on Jackson cheeks, Jackson's on his side gripping the hem of his shirt.  
  
They kiss like is their first right time, like finally they can be each other's.  
  
Jackson finally moans, a deep noise that makes Stiles bite his lips and his arousal to grow, his cock bigger than ever presses against his pants; that is all Jackson's body needs to react, his body leaking liquefied excitation between his legs.  
  
It’s embarrassing, but it feels so right.  
  
“Stiles,” He moans this time holding Stiles from his neck, pulling him closer, demanding more of his kisses, he can’t hear himself asking for more, but he is doing it, undulating his hips, thrusting against the air, Stiles arms are on the fine grass now, body half bent over Jackson's sitting body. “Stiles,” he finally gives out, letting himself fall flat on the grass, his eyes still closed.  
  
“I'm sorry.”  
  
“No. Its okay. I… you’re a good kisser.”  
  
“You too.”  
  
They both feel pretty stupid, but is natural, considering they’re exploring new shit together. And that they need to know each other first, before jumping into any conclusion about the other, like they did before.  
  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
They are in Scott's bedroom, all pressed together against each other, Scott is in the middle, arm in Allison's shoulder, Jackson is at one corner, propped against the bed, with Stiles really focused in the movie, a horror movie, bitchy move on Isaac's side.  
  
They are been doing this for a month now, picking matches and giving each one of them a chance to pick a movie, so far, Jackson hadn’t been picked, but the movies aren’t so bad, and the company of the entire pack is comfortable. There hadn’t been sex yet, just night touches before going to sleep and by night touches he means kissing until their lips looks red and puffy.  
  
“Stiles,” He whispers, scratching the bridge of his nose.  
  
“Mmm?” Stiles is really not paying attention, though the entire pack is listening.  
  
“I'm hungry and not for this crap,” he points at the food scattered in small bowls, candies, popcorn, and some shit that tastes like dirt.  
  
Scott stands up, stopping the movie while walking, kicking on purpose at Stiles, “Move, asshat,” he says, kicking him again, Stiles protests but stands up anyway.  
  
The kitchen is filled soon with the smell of scrambled eggs and toast with butter melting on the top, sort of like Scott's specialty, not that it has too much special about it, anyway.  
  
“No shit, dude, Jackson seems soothed,” Scott whispers, scratching the back of his neck, the eggs gurgling in the frying pan.  
  
“He may be nicer if you get him food.” Both teenagers jump at the sound of Derek's voice.  
  
“How?” Scott starts asking, but then stops, shaking his head, “want some?”  
  
“Yeah, that'll be great,” They stay like that for a few seconds, until Derek gets tire of too much silence. “Are you ok, Stiles?”  
  
“Uh?” Stiles eyes were lost in the toast he was holding, so Derek scares the living shit out of him, again.  
  
“Yeah, I’m okay,”  
  
“What’s on your mind?”  
  
“Jackson,” he answers, honestly, just like Stiles is, but something seems off with him. “I think, I think I really, really fucking like him,” he says, turning around to look at the others, Scott is not as surprised as he thought, he’s just staring at him. “Are you trying to 'duh' me with your eyes? Because that ain’t fun.”  
  
Scott laughs at that, so does Derek.  
  
“I am in love with the dude, and he is the freaking ex-boyfriend of my kindergarten crush, and the bastard who pushed me against every locker of high school, man that is horrible, how sick can that be?” A beat passes, and then Scott is bursting into laughter again, ignoring the glare and the 'not funny' Stiles utters afterward.  
  
“I think Scott is right.” Stopping by the fridge, Derek grabs a bottle of water, returning to his seat as Stiles talks again.  
  
“What? But he's just laughing,” he says like a little kid in a tantrum.  
  
“You should take classes on how to understand people,” Derek sighs, leaving the bottle on the table.  
  
“Oh, I understand, he is an asshole.”  
  
“It’s just that Jackson is your mate, dude, of course you like him, sooner or later you will find yourself falling so hard you will soul bond with him,” Scott almost whines, shaking his head and thinking how much of an idiot Stiles can be sometimes, for being the smarter of the two.  
  
“I'm not soul bonded already?” He asks, doubt creeping in his voice. “Because…”  
  
"You aren’t, you need to mate before feel like you’re gonna die if you don’t touch him,” Derek says, watching between Stiles and Scott.  
  
“That doesn’t sound too good,” he says, frowning harder, Scott snorts.  
  
“Love isn’t, just see how you started, fucking bastard didn’t even like you.” Not mentioning how much Jackson hated his own skull for being better than him in lacrosse.  
  
“How does that work anyway?” he asks this time looking at Derek, who is standing by Scott’s side now, a plate in his hand, waiting for Scott to put the already fried eggs. “I mean, we really didn’t like each other, and then next day we have to fuck each other to oblivion in order to keep moving?”  
  
“It’s not like that, jerk,” Scott growls, dropping the fork he has in his hand, and turning off the stove. “You haven’t even fucked the guy,” he adds, and Stiles sticks his tongue out at him.  
  
“Thing is, Stiles, you are perfectly free from these chains, you can walk out wherever you want, you don’t even have to feel sorry for what may happen to Jackson.” Derek looks so chilled out while saying that, that Stiles is having a hard time believing what he is hearing, like his ears just deny the chance to hear, his heart pulls harder, making his chest ache, and a electric flash rolls by his muscles, it hurts, pretty badly.  
  
He is vaguely conscious of Derek’s surprised curse of “shit!”  
  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
Jackson watches how Stiles and Scott go downstairs, and immediately feels the need to follow them, but Allison restrains him, grabbing his arms while the three of them, Erica, Allison and him, are at the mercy of Isaac's psychopathic taste for TV shows at this hour.  
  
He is probably overly enjoying the frightened sounds coming out of Erica and Allison, that are not more than crap, because Jackson is oddly proud to say that he knows both of these girls.  
  
“Stop with the crap,” he growls when Allison’s fingernails get deep in his bicep, the dead grip making his arm protest. “Put it on the Disney channel.”  
  
“What?” Erica frowns, “I’d rather watch the Smurfs than any of the Disney cartoons.”  
  
“You didn’t have a childhood did you?" Jackson asks as a joke, but the result is pretty far from cool. “I think I’ll go with Stiles,” he whispers under Allison's laugh and Erica's glare.  
  
He can hear from the second floor Derek's voice, a sexy growl, though he is never going to admit that aloud. They are talking about him, and it feels wrong to hear them, but what the hell.  
  
He feels the pain before Stiles grunts, its tight in his chest right around the middle, the air being expelled out of his body like a punch in his gut. A set of arms are on him before he hits the ground, hazy blond hair caressing his face.  
  
“Stiles,” he hears her scream. “Stiles!” she repeats this time, he hears steps, his mind blurry from the deep pain in his chest, “Where is Stiles?” he drawls the words feeling dizzy than ever “Stiles.”  
  


 

*/*/*/*

  
  
About an hour later, Jackson and Stiles are both on the floor in the living room of Scott’s house. Scott’s mother is fast asleep upstairs, and Erica and Allison are both talking lowly on their side of the couch.  
  
Apparently, when Derek has expressed the possibility of Stiles’ letting Jackson go on his own, the pain of the sentient soul bond in the two of them had awaken, painfully real. A regarding of what they couldn’t change now.  
  
Derek wasn’t capable of expressing with words how this had happened, the only solution was that they were some kind of special case. But so far, he hasn’t expressed anything regardless of his two friends.  
  
“We mated but we didn’t consummate the mating but Jackson’s still in heat and we soul-bonded? God this is so confusing,” Stiles cries, closing his eyes and letting his head drop on the floor.  
  
“Well it’s a complicated use of terms, you mate when you connect with someone, but you also have to consummate that mating, see? Complicated. Once you consummate, some people soul bound, others don’t, and the heat is a physical need, you need to literally fuck to make it go away, though, in the first heat is when you must consummate the mating.”  
  
“I'm not getting shit of what you’re talking about,” Jackson moans, his stomach plastered to the floor while he grieves his shame. He feels like he is about to throw up and pass out at the same time, “Lets just do this,” he finally says, growling while standing, the pain of the bonding still receding in his chest.  
  
“What?” Stiles squeaks, literally, he is pathetic.  
  
“Yes, let’s go home and finish this,”  
  
“Are you okay?” Stiles asks doubtfully, receiving a slap to the back of his neck, courtesy of Jackson.  
  
“Yeah, I am, bastard, now knock it off and let’s go, now.” He looks like an alpha at this moment, all demanding, and Stiles can’t help it , he just gets hard at the thought of Jackson on top, _wait what the fuck?_  
  
“Stiles, move it,” Jackson grabs his hands and pulls him. “C'mon,” he says, low and nervous, for both, the rest of the pack isn’t there, or it is, they don’t know. They are just too focused on each other.  
  
In the jeep the air is heavy with the moist smell between Jackson's legs, and Stiles sanity melts with the squirming his mate is doing in the passenger seat. He needs to make him stop, so he grabs his thigh firmly, making Jackson moan and leak even more, the smell drowning Stiles in a haze.  
  
He doesn’t even know when they reach home, cock hard in his jeans, hand stiff from gripping the wheel tight.  
  
“C'mon, lets get inside.” He knows Jackson is worse than him, he can smell the air, and knows that this time they can’t screw it all, that they have to do it, for good.  
  
Jackson shaky legs don’t take him too far, just a few steps from the garage to the kitchen, there he just gives up, grabs Stiles by the shirt and pulls until they are chest to chest, barely breathing.  
  
His sweat mixes with Stiles when both foreheads touch, his nose plastered against Stiles's.  
  
“Good I hate this,” he moans, fingers digging in Stiles ribs.  
  
“Me too,” Stiles mutters, he sounds breathless.  
  
When they kiss it’s a thousand times better than before, Jackson can swear that it feels like being fucked, mouth open, willing to be filled with Stiles’ tongue; and jeez Stiles kisses him with everything, tongue, lips, teeth, breathing harsh and trying in vain to contain the joy of being finally claimed.  
  
They crash hard against each other, his saliva dripping from Stiles chin, doesn’t matter, he is wetter between his legs anyway, and even with the pain of Stiles fingers digging into his skull, the pleasure is immeasurable.  
  
“Want you,” Stiles moans before biting his lip, drawing blood from the sensitive skin.  
  
“Need you,” Jackson answers, his legs are left open, body leaning against the table. “Bed,” he mutters later when a glass left on the table rolls off it and shatters on the floor. “Bed now.”  
  
They stumble going upstairs, hands everywhere, and even if it is supposed to feel weird to just go with it, Jackson is bleary with pleasure, Stiles hands on his shoulders blades, caressing his back, his mouth buried in his neck, he says something, Jackson can’t hear him over the sound of his heart beating.  
  
“Jesus fuck,” Stiles curses, fighting with his own desire to just open the door, considering that is an impossible job with the view in front of him.  
  
Jackson is sexy, there is no other word, maybe sexual applies too, because he is just there panting, lips red and puffy from the rough kissing, propped against the wall, long eyelashes touching his crimson cheeks, freckles everywhere, he hadn’t see them before. the shirt he is wearing is now torn where Stiles pulled, leaving his abs on display, a set of scratches getting redder with every passing second, it hurts to see what he, _he_ , had done to Jackson, a panting mess.  
  
“Stiles,” Jackson protests, noticing the staring, “c'mon open the freaking door.”  
  
The door, right, he takes the knob and turns it, opening the door. The sight of the bed frightens him.  
  
They're doing this, despite of how awkward it’s still for both of them to just be mates.  
  
“I'm not sure this is…” he starts saying, but a demanding mouth catches him in a heated kiss.  
  
“No, motherfucker, you leave now and I kill you.” Jackson has strong arms, stronger than Stiles, bigger than Stiles, so it’s easy to just manhandle his Alpha by grabbing his skull and pulling him until the kiss is too aggressive for his own lips.  
  
He listens to Stiles muffled “hurts so good” and doesn’t stop until they are both tangled in the bed, his powerful thighs straddling Stiles, finally his cock being pressed to his mate’s one.  
  
“Yes!” he hisses, breaking the kiss, Stiles teeth are slightly red with the blood he pulled from his own plump lips. “Yes,” he says again, with less breath to hold on.  
  
Stiles hands dig again in his shoulder blades, pulling him to kiss again, and Jackson can’t deny that having Stiles’ hands on his head and back feels really good, even soothing the discomfort of the leaking from his ass, that already watered his pants and is tainting Stiles'.  
  
“Too many clothes,” Stiles mutters minutes later, Jackson only can agree.  
  
They lose the shirts, bared chest on display, Jackson feels the cold of the room get his nipples hard, and shudders harder when Stiles hands grab his belt.  
  
“Stiles?” but Stilisnki is going up instead of down, fingernails scratching the skin of his abs, and reaching until they're caressing his nipples. It feels awkward, but is amazing, when Stiles pinches them it feels like his entire body is electric.  
  
He moans, loud and open, lips parted, his mate taking that like an invitation to ravish his lips once again.  
  
Now Stiles is sitting, arms surrounding Jackson’s thorax, eating his mouth while both naked chests touch. When Stiles finally decides that is enough of the torture, Jackson screams, foreign fingers groping his damp ass cheek through the jeans; they are not kissing anymore, Stiles is too busy biting his recently discovered sensitive nipples, getting him wetter, Stiles does know how to do this, and Jackson asks himself in a moment of lucidity how much porn does this kid watch.  
  
When Stiles stops briefly to lick at his left nipple with only the tip of his tongue, he struggles through the pleasure and fights with his zipper until his boxers are on sight, Stiles doesn’t waste time, getting his hands inside the pants and under the boxers; Jackson's doesn’t even care how unmanly the yelp he lets out sounds, a deeper blush creeping his cheeks and a soft “please” leaving his lips when he feels how Stiles parts his ass cheeks, the pants sliding down with the movement.  
  
“Oh god.” his voice is a trembling mess, and his entire body shakes, it didn’t feel like this when he was the one doing the touching.  
  
The word _mate_ leaves his lips causing the grip to tighten, Stiles mouth finds his again, playing with his tongue distracting him from his next move; but is not enough, not when Stiles' fingertips touch his hole.  
  
“I could just do it, right?” Stiles asks, voice a rough whisper.  
  
“Get in,” Jackson demands, “just get in,” he whispers weakly feeling the finger probe at his hole again.  
  
“Yeah, I could.” For the first time, Stiles smiles dirtily at him. "I want you to do it."  
  
Jackson just stares for a few seconds, silent, analyzing his words, and then he just moves, caring shit about his pride, he is about to fuck his mate, for god's sake.  
  
He raises and drop his pant on the floor, Stiles barely registers what he is doing, and when he finally does, he is making screeching noises while pushing his own pants down his legs, boxers following the movement, in a moment he is naked and on the bed.  
  
“Wow, kid is big,” Jackson says with an approving sound, “here, have this.”  
  
He throws a condom at Stiles who says “oh” like a stupid teenager, blushing in understanding.  
  
“Derek's, so don’t ask, also, I may accept this shit but the day you knock me up, I’ll cut your cock.”  
  
Stiles shudders but not with the warning but with the sight of Jackson climbing the bed and standing on his foot while straddling his body, his long legs are moist with his excitation, its an angels view.  
  
“Jackson, now.”  
  
“Don’t knot me,” he warns, asking himself how the fuck the condom is going to hold all that cum, and swallows at the thought.  
  
“But…”  
  
“You'll knot me on all fours.”  
  
Stiles moans, covering his face with his hand.  
  
“Jesus, if you get hotter you're gonna melt me.”  
  
“Seriously?” Jackson snorts and lets his knee bend until he is straddling Stiles hips, “Want me to hold it?” he asks softly, gripping Stiles' cock for the first time, its heavy between his fingers, hot, and leaking pre-cum at the tip, he can’t resist and moans wantonly, bowing until his lips touch the head, Stiles’ fingers digs in the hand that holds his cock.  
  
“Fuck.”  
  
“Tastes weird,” Jackson whispers, standing again, his grip on Stiles’ cocks get firmer, he grabs the condom from Stiles’ hand and rips it open with his teeth, rolling it easy down the erect cock.  
  
His body is shaking now, the calm he was feeling before now a vague memory.  
  
“Stiles.”  
  
Stiles opens his eyes and stares directly at the doubt of his omega, he looks uncomfortable, nervous.  
  
“Easy, we can… woah, oh my god!”  
  
It’s hot, that’s the only thing he can think of, the velvet moist walls eating his cock, right to the base, his legs are shaking with the effort to not push up into Jackson's insides, though, his pride is not hurt, because Jackson’s expression shows how desperate his mate is.  
  
“God its like…”  
  
“Like your body is made for me."  
  
Jackson’s eyes open and stares at him, his thighs are trembling and his hole is clenching hard, like a deep mouth, they move because of instinct, Jackson’s hands on each side of Stiles’ head panting with each stroke of that burning heat on his inside; he doesn’t even care that Stiles has one hand groping his ass cheek and the other gripping his hand.  
  
The pounding is desperate from both sides, the scorching heat of Jackson insides is enough to make Stiles knot to grow, a heavy weight pulsing to get in.  
  
“Can’t, can’t, Jackson.”  
  
“Yes, a little more.”  
  
Stiles knows why Jackson asks for more, he feels in control, jumping on his thighs, controlling the power of each thrust, Stiles likes it, but he needs to bury his knot already, the effort to not do it is making him sweat really bad.  
  
“Jackson, can’t, babe.”  
  
Jackson moans and rides him harder, fisting his cock and jacking it fast.  
  
“Jackson, Jack…”  
  
Jackson’s cock is dripping pre-cum on his belly, fucking sonovabitch, wants to come from this, from taking control, and Stiles is gonna let him do it, because he is conscious of how happy he is making Jackson.  
  
His mate comes after a minute, the cum painting Stiles chest with white stripes, its dirty and he likes it. Jackson falls on the bed, panting, Stiles feels like he is the one having post orgasm feelings.  
  
“Now?”  
  
“Yeah, now,” he pants, turning around and forcing his body to hold up on his knees and elbows, Stiles fights the urge to just admire the view, and stand on his own shaky limbs, the head of his cock brushing the abused flesh, Jackson hole is puffy, and still dripping, he has a vague memory of Scott talking about how sweet Allison was, the thought scares him, the Allison part, because she is like a sister to him, but…  
  
“Fuck! Stiles! Knot me already, motherfucker!” Jackson groans, ass wriggling in the air.  
  
“Mate,” Stiles says and dips his head down, mouth connecting with the flaring hole, tongue exploring the velvety inside, feeling the clench of Jackson's inner muscles when he finally realize what Stiles is doing.  
  
“Oh, holy shit.”  
  
“Feels good?”  
  
“Yeah, does.”  
  
Stiles tongue plays a little more, tugging at the rim with the tip of his tongue, Jackson is sore already, but it feels good anyway.  
  
“Think you can take my knot now?”  
  
“I'm your mate, aren’t I?”  
  
Stiles smiles, kissing his entry one more time.  
  
“Not yet.”  
  
His cock enters the channel with easy friction, just dipping inside, buries himself deep, and then thrusting, slapping Jackson’s ass with his hip. Two thrusts later and his knot is tugging at Jackson’s hole, his mate moans in pain, instinct pushing his body away from Stiles.  
  
“Don’t fucking move.”  
  
Jackson cries at the Alpha tone Stiles used on him, it’s rougher than anything he had heard before, and the way Stiles holds his hips is violently perfect.  
  
Of course, the knot goes in, tugging at Jackson's insides with brutal force but once its inside, the pressure against Jackson's prostate is inevitable and delicious. Moving is impossible, the bulb is too big, but Jackson has heard too much from Derek's mouth, ‘milk the knot’, seriously, bastard said that, so he does, closing his hole, pressing the knot enough to send Stiles off earth, it’s now or never right?  
  
Stiles has been thinking the same thing, he grabs Jackson by the chest and pulls from him until his back is pressed against him, he bites hard and feels not only the taste of the blood, hot cooper in his mouth, but the hard grip Jackson ass gives him when he comes again.  
  
Their bodies are left shaking, and they are barely capable of moving to spoon in the bed, Stiles’ tinier body holding Jackson, trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm, cock still spurting come inside his mate.  
  
“Want water?” he ask, probably his brain still not working.  
  
“We’re knotted, stupid.”  
  
“Oh, in that case, let’s sleep then I’ll heal that.” He licks over the wound in Jackson’s shoulder, not deep enough to really hurt.  
  


 

*/*/*/*  
 **(A year later)**

  
  
After one year together, Jackson feels like nothing had changed since the morning he woke up, with a bandage on his shoulder and his body covered by a blue Spiderman sheet. Feeling sore, but content.  
  
Stiles is the same nervous guy on Adderall, with the same slim body and the same brilliant brain and stunning laugh.  
  
Though, they are going to college now, and things are about to change between them, Stiles is going to Stanford, his dreamed college, is not gonna be far from his home, but his father is already moving pieces to get his son the best place, and he is going to Princeton with Scott, both with sports scholarships, both same career, he never give a hard thought to his future, but considering how many people want to go to Princeton, he thinks it’s a privilege.  
  
Allison is going to art school in New York with Isaac and Erica, and Lydia is of course in Yale.  
  
“Hey,” he says, walking to where Stiles is sitting, contemplating his admission letter, though, not the same one Jackson saw a few minutes ago. “Stiles,” he slaps Stiles on the head, his mate jumps. “What are you thinking?”  
  
"I just got accepted in Princeton too,”  
  
“What? You?”  
  
“I apply to Princeton too, just you know, when I heard…"  
  
“Wow, you're pretty smart, like Lydia.”  
  
“Yes I am,” Stiles replies with irony.  
  
“But you’re going to Stanford, because there is where your mom went.”  
  
“Yeah, you know? She only went there because my dad went there, thought he quit after mom got pregnant, but she was going to go to Harvard.”  
  
“She quit Harvard.”  
  
“For dad, yeah.”  
  
Jackson frowns.  
  
“Are you trying to tell me something?” he can’t help it, his heart beats madly in his chest.  
  
“I'm just saying, maybe I'll go to, you know, Princeton.”  
  
Jackson smiles, radiant, a genuine smile, he can’t say anything more because it’s too perfect, his mate is too perfect.  
  
“Is that an ‘I love you, Stiles you’re da best’?”  
  
“No, it’s a don’t play with me, you jackass,”  
  
“See, told you, knew it, you love me.”


End file.
